


The Realm of You

by Candid-Canoe (justturnleft37)



Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M, Mild Self Harm, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-13
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:37:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 25,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justturnleft37/pseuds/Candid-Canoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From friendship, to love, to something else entirely. When secrets are all they have, what is left when their lives become an open book? "I have no life but this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken a few liberties in showverse in some future chapters to make things work the way I wanted, so please don't point this out to me. 
> 
> Also, it's IMPORTANT TO NOTE THIS STORY GOES OUT OF ORDER. If you don't know that going in, things get confusing very quickly. These chapters are short and jump around in time. Hopefully, it all makes sense in the end.
> 
> The name of this fic comes from the Emily Dickinson poem, which I obviously don't own. I don't own BTR either.

The boy across the street and to the left sits in the snow, his dark, unruly hair a stark contrast to the bright white powder and grey of the sky. The other little boy, the one across the street and to the right, watches him, eyes squinted and gleaming with curiosity. Boy Number One just sits and reads, reads, reads, until Boy Number Two thinks the dark-haired kid's backside must be frozen.

New people don't move in often, and Boy Number One is replacing the little old lady who had lived across the street and to the left as long as Boy Number Two can remember. His mom had said something like "she passed away" and Boy Number Two wonders where "away" is and why the lady has passed it.

Boy Number Two has never been shy, so he's not afraid of going to talk to Boy Number One, but there's something about watching someone unnoticed, seeing how a person acts when they don't know they're being watched that is thrilling. Something telling. Boy Number Two now knows, just from watching, that Boy Number One will be a good friend.

Finally, he goes across the street, to the left.

Boy Number One notices a shadow after several moments of Boy Number Two standing over him. He looks up, eyes squinting to make out Boy Number Two's face. Boy Number One says nothing.

"How old are you?" Boy Number Two asks.

"Eight," Boy Number One answers, the pupils of his eyes dilating and swallowing the color of his iris. He looks afraid, unsure, skittish.

"I'm seven and three-quarters," Boy Number Two replies, squatting down. "We're the same age." He smiles.

Boy Number One wants to smile, it's obvious, but still, he doesn't.

"Whatcha reading?" Boy Number Two asks.

Holding up the book, Boy Number One says, " _James and the Giant Peach."_

"Hey," Boy Number Two says, "one of my best friends is named James. Are you in second grade?"

"Yeah," Boy One answers.

"Where are you from?" Boy Number Two scoots even closer, so close he can smell the other boy's clean, snow scent.

"Texas," he answers.

"Wow. I bet you're cold here in Minnesota."

"I like it," Boy Number One says, and finally, he smiles—a hopeful, frail thing.

Boy Number Two likes to the way Boy Number One grins. His teeth are pearly white against his rosy mouth, and they aren't too big like so many other kid's teeth seem to be.

"You wanna play tag?" Boy Number Two stands and offers Boy One his hand. He takes it and nods.

"You can call me Logan," Boy Number One says.

"I'm Kendall," says Boy Two.

And they play until their fingers are numb, their voices gone, the sun hides behind the far off mountains.


	2. Chapter 2

Kendall's passion can be scary at times.

Logan watches him as he leaps onto the table in front of Gustavo Rocque, plastic cups of water and coffee splashing everywhere. The movement of Kendall's hands, the way he bends his knees are almost violent. His face is contorted with rage.

Heart beating faster, Logan cannot take his eyes off Kendall's mouth. He sings in a fury, but the sound is still beautiful, even more so, with the anger fueling it.

Kendall will not stand for the mistreatment of his friends. Logan is thrilled he can be counted amongst them.

Later, when Gustavo makes an offer to Kendall, Logan is fearful. Yes, he will try to convince his friend to go, but what about that time they...

Logan decides it was nothing - nothing that should keep Kendall from fame he deserves. Out of the four of them - James, Carlos, Kendall, Logan - he is the one who would handle it best. Kendall is the one everyone should be looking at.

Boy Number One, the boy from across the street and to the left, hasn't been able to stop looking at Kendall since they were eight years old.

They speak to one another privately, Logan pulling Kendall outside into the snow.

"Why would you say no?" Logan inquires. Kendall's lips thin out to a straight line for a moment before he laughs.

"Why would I say yes? I want to play hockey. If I'm going to be famous it'll be for that," Kendall replies.

"How many people get to be famous for  _anything_?" Logan can't fathom Kendall's decision. "Think of how many people would adore you, the girls throwing themselves at your feet..."

"I don't really care for girls throwing themselves at me." Kendall quirks an eyebrow, a knowing look passing between the two boys. "As far as adoration? I'd much rather have my friends."

Logan's face grows hot. He looks at his feet, but only for a moment. "You'll still have your friends," he responds.

"What good are friends a thousand miles away?" Kendall asks. The expression on his face has smoothed and his voice has gone serious. Logan glances away again.

"Friends are still friends," he mumbles, suddenly finding the lace of his right shoe interesting.

"What about me and you?" Kendall whispers, so close Logan can feel warmth surrounding him like an familiar embrace.

Logan clears his throat. "What about us?"

Kendall urges Logan to look at him by lifting the brunette's chin. A flare of want rises in both at the touch, a burst of static in the air. Logan meets Kendall's eyes; he's surprised when he sees his own want mirrored there.  _What is this?_ Logan tries to ask but can't.

"How could I ever sing without you?" Kendall breathes, the words fanning across Logan's face and into his ears. Logan watches as Kendall's pupils dilate, his lips part, the tip of a pink tongue peeking between them.

Boy Number One remembers the flavor of Kendall's mouth, from before, all pink lemonade and peppermints and something else.

Logan's heart is pounding, pounding, pounding now, as though it tries to beat out a rhythm to orchestrate an almost kiss. In real life, there is no soundtrack, only the bam, bam, bam of a heart, the absence of any sound other than snow, muffling everything else. Logan thinks, in the loaded silence, he can almost hear the flakes hitting the ground.

Until Kendall leans in and Logan swears he can hear the blond boy's heart syncing in with his, two underlying staccato beats, adding percussion they could easily move to.

The two come so close together that when Kendall breathes out, Logan breathes him in. Logan can practically feel the snow liquefying around him, his lips already tingling with the promise of Kendall's mouth against his. He closes his eyes.

A door opens, a burst of golden light against the hard packed snow.

"Aren't you guys freezing?" Carlos says, pouncing them both as all three tumble to the ground. James comes outside and joins in. They all laugh and a wrestling match ensues.

Only when Kendall catches Logan's eye does the laughter fade. The feelings charging the air turn to something else, something everyone else seems oblivious to.

Yes, Kendall's passion can be scary at times, but Logan has always enjoyed the thrill of fear.


	3. Chapter 3

The water is cold now, and Kendall turns the tap back on, full heat, and lets the excess liquid escape through the overflow drains. The floor is soaked and he doesn't care. The room fills with steam.

He takes a sip of his light beer, swallows down some kind of pill. Whatever it is, he doesn't care; he only knows it will help make him numb.

The tub is so large he can stretch out, float on his back and watch the heat rise. His left hand rests over his heart, the other on his stomach. Empty, empty, empty. His fingers begin whispering across his chest, his abdomen, and he begins counting his ribs on each side.

_One, two, three, four, five, six. One two, three, four, five, six. Onetwothreefourfivesix._

He's been starving so long, he almost feels full, the time only counted by how long he can go without eating, distance only measured by the space between his thighs. Everything is out of control, spinning, twirling, flying away.

This, he can control.

_One, two, three..._

Logan's eyes, like bottomless pits, dark as his hair. How far away is he now?

_Four, five, six._

Kendall's phone rings,

_You mean most to me,_   
_We will keep each other safe from harm,_

Kendall hates the song. He throws shampoo bottles, various lotions and bath items, at the offending phone until he knocks it off the countertop. It hits the marble floor with a satisfying crack and the ringing stops.

A few moments later, it starts again,

_When I search my heart, it's you I find,_   
_My beloved one,_

Dragging himself from the tub, he cries out, his entire body pained and aching. The very air against his skin hurts. Kendall grabs the phone, glares at Logan's name as it burns into his eyes with the bright backlight of the phone. He resists the urge to fling the gadget into the water and sends the call to voicemail. He stands and waits, watching it, seeing if there will be anything left.

He waits and waits and waits.

Making his way back, he lowers himself into the water slowly, slowly, the bottom of the tub unforgiving against the bones protruding from his skin.

Another pill, another swig and he sinks into the water again, attempting to warm himself back up. He's always cold now.

_One, two, three..._

After what seems like hours, his cell phone beeps.

 _1 New Voicemail,_ it proclaims happily. Kendall stares at it, wondering if it mocks him or if he's just imagining it.

_Four, five, six._

Gingerly, he places the phone back down. He takes a deep breath and goes under the water's surface. He stays there until his lungs burn, survival instinct screaming at him to surface. Trying to ignore it, Kendall stays under, his mouth opening involuntarily and taking a gulp of tepid liquid. His head shoots above water and he gasps.

Now, he glances at his disposable razor, picks it up and takes in the seemingly innocuous blue and gray plastic, the tiny, dull blades. He presses it against the inside of his wrist, not harshly, and watches as a tiny point of red rises up, mixes with the beads of water on his skin, creates a pink blob on his arm. Kendall knows, if he really wanted to end it this way, he should make slashes down the highway, not across the street. He puts the the razor aside, allowing his arm to fall in the water as the blood makes swirling patterns, like smoke.

With his free hand, he picks up the phone, calls his voicemail.

_Kendall, it's Logan._

Like Kendall wouldn't recognize Logan's voice, even angry words sounding like the sweetest wind in the trees, seven notes of fine-tuned music. Kendall sighs.

_Listen, I know you've not been so happy lately. I know you're not eating, and I don't know why._

Logan takes a deep breath on the message, pauses. Kendall can almost imagine the brunette's hand going through his hair, massaging his temple.

_This was what you wanted, right? I just... I can't help but... This is what you wanted._

He stops again. Kendall wants to scream,  _No, it's not what_ I  _wanted. None of this is._

 _Look, I still worry about you._ A long pause, a shift and a crackle, a sigh.  _If you don't call me back in five minutes, I'm calling Jo._

Kendall looks at the time just as he hears a knock on the bathroom door.

_Onetwothreefourfivesix._


	4. Chapter 4

The laughter of the cruel children still echoes in Logan's head long after the teacher has quietened them.

He knows they still whisper about him; he hears the hushed voices hissing like a pit of snakes, a burgeoning storm.

And he thought it would be different here.

Giving Kendall a desperate glance, Logan notices how Kendall's expression seems as hurt as the dark-haired boy feels. A tear slips from the corner of Logan's eye and Kendall's face shifts to anger. Logan hurriedly wipes it away - a cry baby will produce even more insults than a name like Hortense.

"Why didn't you tell me your real name was Hortense?" Kendall whispers.

"Would you tell people that?" Logan answers, frowning. "I was afraid you wouldn't be my friend."

Today is Logan's first day at his new school. He was so happy when he learned he would be in Kendall's class; the two have become fast friends. Now, Kendall probably thinks Logan is a liar with a stupid name and a cry baby.

Kendall rolls his eyes. "I'm not immature like these stinky-butt poopheads," he says. Logan can't help but laugh, understanding, even at eight-years-old, how conflicting the statement is.

"Thanks," Logan says.

"You know, I think everybody would like you if you just smiled at 'em," Kendall adds, flashing his own crooked teeth.

At lunch, the kids start teasing Logan again, calling out his name in a sing-song voice, laughter pealing through the cafeteria. Kendall throws his milk carton in the floor in anger and stands on his seat.

"Everybody, listen to me!" he shouts. The room grows quiet and everyone turns toward him. "Up until I was five, my mom called me 'Pickle'! If anyone has a problem with different names, come talk to me about it. Otherwise, shut up!"

All is still and silent as Kendall sits back down. Several moments pass before the cafeteria erupts into frantic whispers. A teacher comes and takes Kendall outside, to the principal. Kendall's friends, Carlos and James, come to sit next to Logan, and he swallows. Worry keeps him mute; are Carlos and James going to hit him for getting their friend in trouble?

Carlos sees the worry on Logan's face, smiles. "If Kendall thinks you're all right, so do we."

"We'll take care of you while he's gone," James says, loud enough so everyone can hear him.

Logan's chest tightens. How could he have gotten lucky enough to meet this group? Already, he has not one friend, but three.

Looking at Carlos, Logan glances at the helmet on his head. Carlos laughs. "Do you play hockey?"

"No, but I could learn," Logan answers.

"So, do we call you Hortense or Logan?" James asks.

That night, Logan has dinner with the boys at Kendall's house, meets Mrs. Knight. For the first time, he feels like he fits.

He begins smiling without fear.


	5. Chapter 5

"You know I'm most likely gay, right?" Kendall says. He and his friends have been in L.A. a week, and all this changing around of his image has him thinking. Honesty is the best policy, he always believes.

Gustavo just looks at him and frowns before rubbing his hands over his face.

"No," he replies.

"No, really. I think I am," Kendall says, walking into Gustavo's office and closing the door.

"Do your friends know?" Gustavo asks.

"Not all of them. I haven't needed to tell them yet." Kendall seats himself across from the large man, only slightly fearful. They are in California, after all. This kind of thing is supposed to be more accepted.

"Good," Gustavo says, "keep on keeping it to yourself."

"What?" Kendall's eyebrows disappear under his hair and a sick feeling begins rising in his stomach. "I don't think they'll have a problem. It's just, I've been a little scared to tell them, only a little, and my mom has guessed already and - "

"Listen," Gustavo starts, "You're Kendall Knight, the leader of Big Time Rush and Kendall Knight is  _not_ gay."

"But he is." Kendall stands and nods, a derisive snort escaping his nose.

Gustavo stands to match him, his huge form imposing. His face turns red as a cherry tomato before he shouts, "There are a million teenage girls and their moms who have to want you and they won't if there's no possibility of them having you!"

Kendall's mouth drops open. He closes it. It opens again. Gustavo only makes a face at him.

"B-but - ," Kendall tries to respond, no words escaping his mouth. He's shocked. Never has he felt the need to hide who he is, what he thinks, feels. He remembers now why he never wanted to be under public scrutiny, not really.

"Kendall Knight is NOT gay! Do what you want behind closed doors, Dog, but for the press, you love girls. Now go find yourself a girlfriend ASAP!" Gustavo jabs his thumb toward the door, shaking his head.

Kendall finds the nearest bathroom and throws up. How will he tell Logan? Logan, whose face, presence and voice ground him like no other. Logan with the hopeful grins and all-knowing eyes.

Kendall wants to drop out, go back to Minnesota, hide under a rock. How can he now? Now, when all his friends are tied into this, counting on him for success?

He shoves his own desires aside. The next time he sees Logan, he pretends they are just friends. Kendall pretends, when their hands accidentally brush against each other, he doesn't want to clutch the brunette's fingers in his. The next time Logan looks at him like there is something more, Kendall schools his expression. He refuses to have some half-life with Logan behind closed doors. Everything, he will keep to himself. Better for Logan.

And when Jo Taylor shows up, Kendall pretends he wants her. Out of spite, Kendall hopes, Logan pursues her as well.

Still, the possibility Logan might actually want her makes Kendall feel empty in places he paid no mind to previously. It's good though, Kendall thinks. It's good Logan wants someone else, can actively seek someone out.

Kendall skips meals. Not because he wants to be thin, but because no matter what he eats, his stomach hurts. Usually, he throws it up anyway.

No one notices, no one notices, no one notices, because he eats enough to maintain, but the less he eats the stronger he feels, the clearer he can think. Focus. He can be who everyone needs him to be.

Except for himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Logan doesn't mind secrets. Not when they are shared with Kendall.

The night is lit by a barely there moon, a sliver of a grin shining down, twilight escaping into purple-black skies. In a few short weeks, the boys will start their sophomore year of high school, and Carlos, James and Logan are all at Kendall's house to celebrate the almost-end of Summer.

Logan's bag makes a tinkling sound, and he tries to walk without bouncing. Kendall smiles at him when he arrives and gently removes the bag from Logan's shoulder.

"Did he notice?" Kendall whispers, James coming up behind him and putting his head on the blond's shoulder. Logan looks to James, covets how easily he can touch Kendall, unworried about how others might perceive their relationship.

When Logan touches Kendall, he feels himself laid open, obvious, blushing like a copper kettle.

"No, didn't notice a thing," Logan answers.

"Carlos!" Kendall shouts. "Get out of the kitchen and come back here!"

Carlos comes swinging around the corner, down the hall and runs into Kendall's room. Kendall closes his bedroom door. Logan pulls the glass bottles from his bag and the other boys smile and cheer.

"Logan, man, how'd you do it?" Carlos asks, grabbing one of the small bottles.

"Well, my dad has a lot of different bottles so I just took some out of all of them," Logan replies. James takes the bottle from Carlos.

"So it's all mixed together?" James swirls the light amber colored liquid. "And are these Dr. Pepper bottles?"

"Yes and yes," Logan says. "Swipers can't be choosers."

Kendall pipes up. "People mix it all together anyway, right?"

The guys shrug their shoulders and laugh, counting down the minutes until Mrs. Knight goes to bed.

Later, the boys watch re-reruns of  _That 70's Show_  on  _nicknite_ and pass the bottles around. They chase down the sting with pink lemonade and toss peppermints high in the air for each other to catch. As the night wears on, they miss more often than not, their laughs rising to high-pitched giggles.

Logan notices the room go quiet and still, glances towards his friends. They're all piled together, passed out, the glow of the TV casting their faces in chaotic shadows with the shifting light. Always, always, his eyes are drawn to Kendall, expression smooth, vulnerable and innocent in rest.

He feels a squeeze and tug in his chest, something tight and insistent and unnamed.

Watching them all, Logan chuckles to himself, the arms and legs askew, disheveled clothing and hair everywhere, look anything but comfortable. But sleep they do, the breathy cadence of their dreams filling the room.

Logan thinks he could easily pass out with them, but he feels too good to succumb to sleep just yet. The warmth has spread within him down to the very bottoms of his feet, his face vibrating, his shoulders relaxed. He's a little bold, as well, and he stands up, shuts off the TV and goes over to where Kendall lies, Carlos's foot as his pillow.

A lock of tawny hair flops across Kendall's eye. Logan reaches out to brush it away, unafraid of any reactions because no one is awake to see. Once he has moved it aside, Logan crouches down, on eye-level with Kendall's sleeping form. He reaches out again and lightly brushes his fingers through the honey-gold strands, watching closely as the they fall away from his hand. He sighs, stands up once more. Leaving the room, Logan quietly makes his way to the back porch, sprawls himself out on the porch swing.

This is a secret he's been trying to keep even from himself, the rhythm of his heart, the rush of blood to his cheeks, his...other places.

He lies there on the swing, staring out over the edge of the porch and into the blue-black sky, the stars twinkling happily, carefree. Logan hears the slight creak of a floorboard, a shift in the air as a door opens. He quickly sits up and sees Kendall, the flush in his cheeks glowing even in the barely-there light. Logan chuckles, a nervous sound, relieved Kendall stands here instead of Mrs. Knight.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Logan inquires, unconsciously straightening his shirt, running hands through his hair.

"Why aren't you?" Kendall presses the light on his watch, his face illuminated momentarily by the glow. He blinks, once, twice, the blue reflected on his eyes, casting out the color of moss. Logan swallows. "It's almost three," Kendall offers.

Logan is still buzzing, burning face and loose lips. "Thinking," he replies. Kendall smiles, dimples reaching upwards toward pillow(foot) creases on his cheeks. He sits next to Logan, the swing jostling and squeaking. Logan tries to will his traitorous heart to stop pounding, the quick sound of timpani speeding to quarter notes, to eighths, to sixteenths.

Kendall stretches an arm behind Logan on the swing, skin still sleep-warm, and Logan feels the heat sinking into his flesh. Without thought, he leans back against the proffered arm, only searching out more warmth, maybe more Kendall.

"Is this okay?" Kendall asks, his arm moulding across Logan's back, hand gripping his shoulder and pulling him close.

Logan's tongue feels as useless as dying leaf in his mouth, and he searches Kendall's face. What if this was some sort of joke? Some set-up meticulously planned over years and years of friendship to make him look stupid? But no, when he delves into the emotions painted on Kendall's face, coloring his eyes in the brightest green, all he finds is earnestness. He nods, mistrustful of speech.

Kendall reaches out - Logan wondering if he only imagines the other boy's hand trembling - and smooths out the worried lines on Logan's brow. The touch is soft yet heavy in intention. Kendall's hands come to rest on either side of Logan's neck, thumbs reaching out to his jaw, his throat, under his ear. Searching, searching, searching.

"What are you thinking about?" Kendall's eyes move about chaotically, as though Logan's face were a temporary thing, only moments allowed to memorize its intricacies.

 _Your hands, your face, your stupid sideways smile, your bravery, your friendship, your strength, your voice, your thumbs, you, you, you,_ Logan wants to say. His loose tongue is tightened by the unnamed feeling, so all he can say is, "You."

Kendall smirks, a short laugh escaping his parted lips. "Funny," he whispers, "I was thinking of you, too."

And he leans in, presses his mouth to Logan's, lips searching, opening, finding, coming together, moving against. A curve of a smile like the smoothest silver spoon.

The kiss flares and Logan's insides curl, clench to hold him together. His heart beats at a fever-pitch now, his lids closed but all he sees are shades of green: emerald, jade, forests of trees, freshly mown grass, the jewel-tone of Kendall's eyes.

They exchange breath after breath of  _want, need, want, need_ until they are both panting, lips swollen, faces raw from almost-there stubble.

Later, Logan ponders Kendall's mouth, deciding there is no better flavor than Kendall's smile.

They don't talk about it.

But Logan doesn't mind a secret, as long as he shares it with Kendall.


	7. Chapter 7

Kendall dates Jo for months and has sticks of gum, saltine crackers for breakfast. He scoops his bacon and eggs into a napkin on his lap and he pretends to like it when he kisses her. Logan sometimes dates Camille, sometimes doesn't and Kendall has diet soda for lunch along with two bites of tuna.

Sometimes, Kendall has a hamburger at dinner then runs until he can't feel his legs anymore, throws up from the movement of it, and sometimes he asks Logan to run with him, the dark-haired boy's crazy locks turned auburn in the setting sun.

Those are the days, the evenings when the the sun, low in the sky, lights Logan with a clinquant glow, eyes caught from the side flashing with flecks of yellow, those are the days Kendall can keep the sick stomach ache at bay.

He likes Jo, loves her even, truly, but in the way he might say he loves Carlos of James or Kelly, and he weighs himself three times a day.

California is beautiful; Kendall loves the warmth, the long days, the music he makes with his best friends. On the other side of the coin, he hates it. All the secrets, swirling through his head and heart like a thick fog, the future indecipherable, all control lost because a person can't see three steps ahead. He used to share these things with Logan, but not anymore, not ever, never again. The thought chokes him, makes him feel a little more than crazy, so he eats some pizza just so he can force it out of his body.

The bones of his shoulders start to stick out, so he wears a shirt at the pool, does push ups to maintain upper body strength. Kendall holds things together, makes good decisions, inspires his friends, earns the love of a girl.

But Logan still looks at him in that wanting way, that forever longing kind of way. In his eyes, a constant question he will not voice, can't voice because Kendall always stops him, doesn't allow the two any time alone. Something great and awful might happen.

Kendall might do something stupid and soul-crushing and life-ruining like tell Logan he loves him.

He remembers back on not-too cold Minnesota mornings, chasing the points of light in the sky as they faded in the early morning, Logan jogging next to him in stride. Oh, oh how he had wanted to reach out and touch the blotches of pink on Logan's morning chilled cheeks. Kendall wished to be that puff of breath steaming in the cold air, if only it meant he had once been inside the other boy.

In Los Angeles, the city is so bright, there are no stars to chase.

Kendall attempts to remember a time he has not loved Logan, but the feeling is so twined with all his memories he can't imagine it never existing.

There comes a night when Jo and Kendall are alone in her apartment. Any normal night, the kisses and touches they share are chaste, innocent, but this night, Jo's hands seem to be everywhere, her mouth asking a question without words. Kendall doesn't know how to answer. He knows he wants Logan as surely as he knows his own name, but he's not so  _Logan_ sexual that he can't recognize when someone wants more from him. Her hips move erratically, her hands clutch his shirt so the fabric protests and pops.

 _What would any other guy do? What?_ Kendall thinks, knowing the answer and not really wanting to affirm it with himself.

"Kendall?" she whines, voice almost keening - the word, his name, her tone all a question.

The yellow-white light of the end table lamp casts her in flattering hue, and Kendall slows both their movements to  _really_ look at her. She's beautiful; skin unblemished and glowing golden, hair like an expanse of unplowed wheat, just enough innocence paired with budding sensuality. But it's the look in her eyes which makes up Kendall's mind. There he sees nothing but love _love_ love and he wants it.

Her eyes are almost the right shade. Even though everything else is wrong.

So Kendall thinks of what is true and he says, "I love you," kisses her again; he wouldn't say it if it weren't. Why shouldn't he be with her this way? He is Kendall Knight, leader of Big Time Rush, and Kendall Knight, leader of Big Time Rush, doesn't love a boy named Logan.

Except the boy from across the street and to the right does. That boy's first time would be spontaneous, a three a.m. kiss turned to an uncontrolled wanting, a moment in time as fleeting as a firefly light, and it would be with the boy whose name is always on his lips. But, Kendall thinks, that version of himself isn't around right now. This boy, the one who sings and runs and does push ups and throws up and hides, loses his virginity to Jo.

Kendall turns off the light so she won't see his bones.


	8. Chapter 8

Logan isn't dumb. He never has been.

This isn't the first time Kendall has starved himself, but this is definitely the farthest it's ever gone.

They just had a fight, not about the not-eating, but about Kendall's continued isolation, his slow destruction of self - it all goes together anyway. Logan supposes he should be glad Kendall is at least drinking; alcohol has calories.

He wonders how Jo puts up with him. Logan wonders how he himself manages to put up with Kendall. They haven't been anything like real friends in...years.

Not since Kendall told Logan he wasn't allowed to love _love_ love Kendall in the real kind of way, not anymore. But Logan isn't a light switch or a stereo; there is no temperature gauge attached to his heart he can adjust at will. No matter how frustrated Logan gets with Kendall, something about him draws Logan in, the song of a siren, a fly to honey.

Kendall has always been the center of attention, an entity with his own force of gravity, and Logan feels helpless to do anything but circle around him, never getting any closer.

Logan knows, surely as Kendall does, he will worry, he will love and support the other man until there is nothing left in the world but the memory of sound with no one around to hear it. There are days he thinks he shouldn't, wishes he wouldn't. Today is one of those days.

Now, he's on the phone with Jo as she knocks on the bathroom door, some worry deep in Logan's gut telling him Kendall shouldn't be alone, and his pride too great to be the one to pick him up again.

"He's not answering," Jo says, her voice wavering only slightly.

"Maybe you should call his mom?" Logan offers. He rolls down the windows of his car, begs the wind to sweep away this aching sense of foreboding he has been carrying since the age of sixteen. He tries to put as much distance between himself and this situation as possible; he's certain his heart can't take anymore.

"God, Logan, he would get so mad at me," she whispers. "You know he doesn't want people to worry, but I don't... I just can't handle... I don't know what to do anymore." She sniffles and a quiet, heartbroken sound slides through the earpiece of the phone. Logan pulls over, closes his eyes and presses his forehead against the steering wheel. The sky is cruelly clear, the clouds feathering and curling against a blue sky that disappears into the ocean. Logan has this unjustified sense of offense that the sun could shine down so warm and so bright when Kendall is thoroughly fading, thinning out like the leaves in a Minnesota Autumn.

"So he might hate you," Logan says, voice muffled. "But is it more important that he likes you or lives?"

Jo cries, the sound like a the first stirrings of a storm. "Logan, would you please come back? Please?" she begs. Logan easily deciphers what she really means,  _Let him hate you._

"Sure," comes the laconic reply. Inside, he thinks,  _I'll take the bullet again._

When he gets back to the condo Jo and Kendall share, he enters without knocking. He makes his way to the bathroom he knows Kendall has locked himself in, the  _tap, tap, tap_ of his shoes echoing and matching the rhythm in his chest. He finds Jo, sitting in the hallway across from the door, her face a mess of angry blotches and shiny trails of tears. She looks at Logan and begins to sob. Logan slides to the floor next to her, wraps his arm around her small shoulders and pulls her close.

"Why," deep breath, "can't I-I," a sob, "make him better?" Jo throws her hands in the air.

Logan is beginning to believe - has known actually - when someone loves Kendall Knight in that all encompassing sort of way they are begging for tragedy. Jo's heartbreak has been his own for as long as he can remember. He almost feels jealous she can cry over it, seek out comfort. So he takes some comfort in her, shares the burden, albeit quietly.

"It's not up to you to make him better," Logan says into Jo's hair, the smell of sweat and worry and sorrow invading his nostrils.

"He won't let me tell. He won't let me tell  _anybody!_ How did it get this far so fast?" Her tears are quieting as she speaks, the strength in her words gaining.

"It's been going on a long time," Logan states. "On and off." His mind drifts back, only for a moment, to the off time: the beautiful, endless afternoons exploring Kendall as though he were a continent to be conquered, the smiles and quiet, breathy laughs. "I don't know how long it's been going on this time. We, uh, don't really get to see each much except for band stuff."

Jo gives Logan an incredulous look, her mouth hanging open before she gasps, "How did I not notice? How long?"

"Four, maybe five years?" Logan guesses. He knows it started shortly after they first came to L.A., when Kendall first became so distant.

"So, even when we first started dating? Back when..." She stops, some unknown memory clouding her eyes, a realization, then pain. She seems to notice Logan is still next to her and shifts her gaze to him. "I have to go, Logan."

"What? Where?"

"I just...I have to  _go._  I can't handle this. It's too much. It  _hurts_ too much. I have to go." She jumps from her spot against Logan and hurries off, Logan hearing her gather a few things, her purse, a duffle. She bursts back into the hallway from one of the bedrooms.

Logan watches her back as she retreats. Jo gets to the door and he shouts, "Are you coming back?"

He is only answered by the slamming of a door.


	9. Chapter 9

"Where's your dad?" Logan asks with all the couth a ten-year-old can muster. It's a Friday, and in two days it will be father's day. The day camp the boys are attending has them all making cards.

James elbows Logan in the ribs. "Don't talk to him about it."

Kendall's expression hardens. He won't cry. He absolutely, positively, without a doubt will not cry.

He covers his face because he realizes he's crying.

Throwing down the white glue, the tiny sequins and beads and pipe cleaners on the craft table are propelled upward like fireworks and Kendall walks off, mumbling about needing to pee. He gets to the bathroom and locks himself in a stall, puts his face in his hands and sobs.

Why would Logan bring that up now? They've been friends for two years,  _best_ friends, so if Kendall had wanted to bring it up he would have.

 _Well,_ Kendall thinks,  _I have wanted to bring it up, talk about it, but I don't want Logan to see me cry._

The truth is, Kendall carries around this angry ache centering around the absence of his father. He had been left behind, abandoned, overlooked by someone Kendall had centered his world around. The years gone by have done nothing to soften the blow. Sometimes, Kendall wishes his father were dead instead of simply gone. At least then, he would know it hadn't been a choice.

There's a soft knock on the door of the stall, the disturbance rumbling through the rusted metal. Kendall glances down and sees Logan's shoes, sloppy strings lolling about the high tops. Logan rolls his ankles, his feet nervously shifting. Kendall can't help but smile at the fidgeting. This was his friend: so smart yet so awkward, unaware of how great he is, too distracted by a book or a new word to remember to tie his shoes or comb his hair. The fondness pushes him to open the door.

Logan bursts through and pulls Kendall into a fierce hug. "I'm sorry!" he says. "Please don't hate me. Carlos and James told me. I shouldn't have just asked like that. You know I don't think before I talk sometimes or I think too much before I talk and it comes out wrong and I'm just  _so_ sorry." He squeezes Kendall tighter as though Logan fears the boy might flit away, disappear from his arms. "You're dad is so stupid, Kendall.  _Stupid._ You have the best family in the whole wide world, and there's nobody as brave and smart and awesome as you and he just sucks and - "

"Logan," Kendall says, effectively cutting him off. Wrapping his arms around the shorter boy, Kendall squeezes Logan back. "It's okay."

Pulling back to look at him, Logan says, "But you're crying." Kendall touches his face, sees his fingertips covered with fresh tears.

"Man, I am, aren't I? Please don't think I'm a crybaby," Kendall requests.

"Everybody has to have someone they can cry in front of," Logan answers. "It's not a big deal. I'll be yours, okay? Besides, you've already seen me cry." Then he smiles, all dimples and rounded cheeks, a blossoming flower, a window in a storm cloud.

There's this place inside Kendall, this place that has been empty and resonating with echoes of hurt for so long. Logan smooths out the ragged edges, starts to fill it with something else.

"Okay," Kendall replies, the corners of his mouth curling.

Once Kendall is again calm and strong and everything he's assumed to be, they go back out. Kendall looks down at the card he's supposed to be making and tries not to get upset again. Logan notices.

Leaning into Kendall, Logan whispers, "I can share my dad, if you want."


	10. Chapter 10

To Logan, the kiss had been a promise. A promise for another one, another and another. A promise of fingertips trailing down his spine. A promise of whispered words of affection, a grin pressed against his throat, legs twined with his own.

And Logan knows Kendall never breaks his promises.

Logan is a smart guy. Some might say he can be lacking in common sense, but his sense tells him Kendall is covering. Kendall might smile, lead, joke and turn a phrase like everything is normal, but Logan sees the tightness in his eyes, the clenched jaw, rigid spine. Logan has watched Kendall hide his deeper feelings since they were children. And he's learned how to see right through Kendall's well-practiced facade.

Logan tries and tries and  _tries_  to get Kendall on his own, to tell the other boy he knows how hard it is, how much it hurts to try and keep something as huge as love a secret, even from yourself. But the only time they are away from the others they are running, Kendall always breathless, unable to speak.

Because Logan never doubts Kendall loves him.

Months go by and Logan watches Kendall sacrificing himself more each day, moving away from the boy who knew when it was okay to trust enough to show weakness into a man with empty eyes.

God, he's getting so skinny, blue veins standing out plain despite the sun-kissed hue of his flesh.

Kendall is frighteningly good at hiding, and it breaks Logan's heart. Even more than the million kisses he watches Kendall exchange with Jo. Even more than his accidental hearing of how Kendall lost his virginity. Those things hurt, no use in denying it, but they are shards in a sea of glass that is the smile never reaching Kendall's eyes.

When Jo leaves, heads out to shoot a movie in New Zealand, Kendall loses it. It confuses Logan, Kendall finally moping, allowing everyone to see. In fact, one morning at breakfast, Kendall actually cries into his cereal - James, Carlos, Katie and Mrs. Knight all present.

Logan watches the other boy carefully, only one small bite taken before he pushes it aside and excuses himself, tears falling silently down his cheeks. His eyes flit to Logan, only a tiny fraction of a second, but the glance is so loaded, it takes Logan's breath away.

The table is silent as Kendall leaves and Logan can't take the silence, not anymore. He stirs his coffee, purposefully clanging his spoon against the sides of his cup. He looks up and finds everyone staring at him.

"What?" he asks, that old feeling rising, the one he had tried to put away when Kendall chose Jo. He is a pane of bullet-proof glass - maybe they see through him but he won't be broken. They continue to stare and Logan squirms. He puts down the spoon.

"I'll go talk to him," Logan concedes.

Maybe he is more like cellophane, transparent and flimsy, at least when it comes to Kendall.

He walks into Kendall's room just as he is pulling his shirt down over his stomach. Logan's eyes go wide and all he can think is the word "bones". He could count Kendall's ribs if he wanted, from the apex of his sternum and down, down. Kendall's hip bones are prominent also, peeking above the waist band of his shorts. Logan can't help but gasp.

Kendall gets defensive. "What?" he growls, going to shove past Logan.

Logan shakes his head, clears his throat, tries to smooth his face into an expression feigning normality. "Nothing." He steps aside as though letting Kendall pass. When the taller boy moves to leave, Logan grabs him, fingers able to encircle his upper arms. Logan swallows.

"Kendall," Logan whispers, moving close, close enough to feel Kendall's skin isn't as fiery hot as it used to be. "Kendall, will you please have dinner with me? Just me and you." Kendall looks at Logan's shoulder, his chest, at the floor. Finally he moves his gaze to Logan's eyes and his expression softens. Something like defeat permeates the room.

Kendall takes a shaky breath, eyes shining and sad and lost and found, uncomfortable with the paradox. He nods and Logan lets out the breath he has been holding.

~K/L~

All the time Logan has wanted to get Kendall on his own and now that they are alone, he can't even begin to speak. The first half of dinner is quiet, loaded. Logan has counted four bites Kendall has taken. They are at this hole in the wall, greasy spoon type place and after twenty minutes of Kendall pushing the food around and nibbling, he excuses himself to the restroom.

Logan gives him a minute and a half and then follows.

He walks in just in time to hear Kendall puking. Logan stands outside the stall and waits on him, his heart aching at the sick sounds Kendall makes, the forceful heaves and in-between sobs.

Kendall comes out and his face is red and blotchy, his eyes bloodshot. He starts when he sees Logan.

"Why?" Logan immediately asks.

"Why what?" Kendall returns, playing like he doesn't know Logan knows.

"You know."

"I'm just upset over Jo." Kendall goes to the sink, splashes water on his face, rinses out his mouth. He squirts breath spray in his mouth, puts drops in his eyes. The whole thing seems ritualistic to Logan, something well-practiced. When Kendall looks back at him, his appearance is normal. Except Logan knows how Kendall's bones protrude under the baggy shirt he wears.

"This has been going on longer than that," Logan deadpans.

Kendall sighs. "You wanted to talk. So talk."

Logan starts at the beginning. "Before we left Minnesota -"

"I'm not gay," Kendall interrupts. Logan narrows his eyes.

"I didn't ask - "

"Logan, we can't be together like that. We just...can't. Okay? I'm Kendall Knight and I like girls. I have to keep all this shit together." He looks away from Logan and into the mirror. "I have to be an example and I have to make sure people want or want to be me and trust me and I have to keep this band together. I have to fix things when we all fight or get off task." He turns to Logan again. "I have to be the person Gustavo and James and Carlos and Mom and Katie and a million  _fucking_  strangers need me to be so I can't be who you need me to be too, okay?" Kendall pounds his fist into the countertop, squeezes his eyes closed. "Even if that's what I want more than anything," he finishes, voice tapering into almost nothing. He leans against the wall and slides to the floor, hides his face in his hands.

"Why are you so upset over Jo?" Logan asks, surprised Kendall is sharing so much with so little prompting.

"Because I'm allowed to be!" Kendall snaps, eyes flashing, so bright and green against his red face. He brings his knees to his chest and puts his forehead against them, begins to sob in earnest. Logan slides down next to him, wanting to sigh with gratitude when Kendall allows Logan to hold him close.

And Kendall feels so feeble, skin paper thin and bones sticking out like bolts. Logan wants to cry, but it's Kendall's turn right now.

"Tell you what," Logan whispers, lips in Kendall's hair, "I'll be whatever  _you_ need me to be. No matter what that is. That way, at least one thing is right."

Kendall quietens, moves so that his cheek rests on his knees, face turned towards Logan. "We'd have to be a secret," Kendall murmurs, voice hopeful despite the obvious sadness on his face.

"I don't mind." Logan brings a trembling hand to Kendall's flushed cheeks, brushes his fingertips across the other boy's cheekbones, his nose, sweeps his hair from his eyes, wipes away the tears. "As long as it's a secret we share."


	11. Chapter 11

"Let's ride the roller coaster next," Kendall exclaims, grabbing Logan's hand and pulling him along. They find James and Carlos loitering around the line, eating corn dogs and trying to look nonchalant.

"You guys gonna ride?" Carlos asks around the food in his mouth. "'Cause I can tell you right now, I'm not scared." He emphatically nods. James laughs.

"He's scared," James mouths. "We've been standing here for half an hour." James glances down and notices Logan's hand in Kendall's and furrows his brow. Kendall has yet to realize he still clings to Logan, and he quickly drops his hand. As Logan's father seems so quick to remind the boys, they are nearly fourteen now, much too old to hold another boy's hand.

"We're going to go. I'm not scared." Kendall puffs out his chest, pulls himself to his full height and looks at Logan. He laughs out loud when he notices the shorter boy already turning green.

"Yeah," Logan stutters, "not scared."

Kendall chuckles again. He knows exactly how to get his friend's mind off the fear.  _Statistics_. "Come on, Logan. What are the chances you could die from riding a roller coaster?"

"Oh, around and about 1 in 300 million," Logan rattles, squinting his eyes and tilting his head to the side. "Of course, you also have to take into account the physics of a roller coaster in comparison to the deaths reported. Like, how much of a reservoir of potential energy does this coaster have?"

Kendall just widens his eyes and shakes his head. "Um, not much?"

Logan smiles, his expression revealing his appreciation for Kendall's assistance, a glance full of familiarity and knowledge. "Well then the chances are significantly decreased," Logan says out loud. He leans in, and just to Kendall, he whispers, "Thank you."

"No problem." Kendall throws an arm over Logan's shoulder, nods toward the line to the other boys. They stand and wait.

When they get their seats in the rickety cart, Kendall feels the rigidity of Logan, his spine ramrod straight, his muscles tight. Once they are belted, the metal bar pulled over their laps, Kendall reaches over it and places a hand on Logan's thigh. Logan looks at him and sighs. Kendall squeezes Logan where they are joined and Logan tries to smile but grimaces.

"You can't smile for me?" Kendall asks, jokingly tickling Logan's inner thigh. A burst of laughter explodes from Logan's lips and his grin brightens the whole world, at least it does for Kendall.

Despite the funny looks or fathers who might protest, Kendall takes Logan's hand and twines together their fingers. He gives a reassuring squeeze. Who cares what everyone else thinks anyway?

"We have statistics on our side, right?" Not for the first time, Kendall can't stop staring at Logan's mouth, a fluttering, curling and  _not entirely_  unpleasant feeling moving about his stomach. He wants to  _touch_ touch _touch_ anywhere and everywhere on the other boy, and Kendall is fairly certain people would think it abnormal he felt that way.

Kendall watches Logan's throat as he swallows, his lips part. "Yeah," he breathes.

Logan's hand is sweaty wrapped up in Kendall's, but the taller boy doesn't mind, he just squeezes it tighter as the coaster takes off.

When it's over, Logan is reluctant to release Kendall's hand.

And Kendall knows Logan has that feeling in his stomach, too.


	12. Chapter 12

_She'll come back,_ Logan thinks.  _It's impossible to abandon Kendall fucking Knight._

The silence stretches so long, he can hear the faucet steadily dripping,  _plop, plop, plop_ into the tub of water in the bathroom. He stares at the door for ages, memorizes the pattern of wood grain on its lacquered surface until he's sure he could draw it easily. Logan moves toward the door, gingerly places his ear against it. There is a slight shuffling, a hampered cough. He knocks, knuckles rapping featherlight as though posing a question.

The shuffling stops. Slowly, it starts again, coming Logan's way. There's a turn of a lock and the footsteps retreat, the sound of a porcelain lid being lifted, a sigh.

Logan turns the knob, the  _click_ echoing and hanging in the air, trepidation rising in Logan's chest. He opens the door and steps in the bathroom, the humidity so thick he has difficulty breathing. He looks around the cavernous space until he sees Kendall, his cheek pressed against the toilet seat, his arms wrapped around the bowl. Logan tries not to openly weep or gasp or scream when he registers Kendall's appearance. There is a towel around his waist, his naked back so frail he could fall apart, the column of his spine like the rungs of a ladder, each vertebrate visible.  _Ribs, ribs, ribs, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve._ Logan rubs his hands across his face, counts his breaths along with Kendall's bones.

He can't get mad. Not when Kendall might chase him off. There's no doubt in Logan's mind Kendall won't be surviving this much longer, not on his own.

Going to stand over Kendall, Logan waits to be acknowledged. Kendall finally lifts his head, his eyes half closed, a sweet, open smile blossoming on his mouth.

Logan thinks Kendall has no  _fucking_ right to look at him like that, not anymore, like Logan hung the goddamn moon and could blow out the stars like candles on a cake.

But Logan cannot deny the effect it has on him, the tug older than time in his chest, the stirring push and pull and pull and push on everything he is. Despite the sunken cheeks. Despite the vacant look in Kendall's eyes.

"Hey, Logie," Kendall slurs. "How are you?" He laughs, coughs, then puts his face over the bowl, gags.

"I've been better." Logan moves to the sink, soaks a washcloth with cold water. He goes back to Kendall and puts the cool rag on his neck, squats down next to him. "You?"

"I think I've had too much to drink. Maybe I took too much medicine," Kendall offers between bouts of heaves and coughs.

"Medicine?"

Kendall gestures over his shoulder to the bathtub. Logan glances over and sees a smattering of blue pills on the ledge. He bites into his lower lip to keep from snapping, to keep a clear head. Logan starts to help Kendall up, the taller man too weak and too feeble to protest.

"Where are we going, LogiePogieMoMogie? My knees hurt." Kendall groans at the jostling and Logan settles an arm over his shoulder. "My hips hurt too. And my throat."

Logan swallows down the sick rising in his own throat, his heart squeezed as though wrapped in a hangman's noose. All Logan's brains, his wit, his constant studying and he has no clue how to begin fixing this, fixing Kendall. His own words seem to echo in his head,  _It's not up to you to make him better._ But that's not true, is it? Hasn't it always been his self-proclaimed mission to see Kendall content? After all, Kendall's happiness is directly linked to Logan's, always has been, whether he likes it or not.

"I'm going to make you breakfast," Logan replies.

"Is it morning already?" Kendall glances around, looking for a window, too far gone to realize there aren't any in the bathroom.

"Close enough."

Logan hefts Kendall to the kitchen, and it's slow going, Kendall's muscles (or lack thereof) protesting with each step.

"Feeling a little stiff, Buddy?" Logan tries to joke.

"Only for  _you,_ " Kendall returns, a high-pitched giggle bubbling out. Logan knows Kendall isn't in his right head, and he's disgusted with himself when that familiar yearning tightens his stomach.

"How much have you had? Pills I mean."

"Who counts that sort of thing?"

"Most normal people," Logan mumbles. Kendall laughs again.

Once in the kitchen, Logan makes Kendall fried eggs, brings him a cup of orange juice. He puts the plate in front of Kendall and for the first time since Logan's arrival, Kendall is quiet, contemplative. Suddenly, he looks as though he might cry. Logan sits across from him at the table.

"What is it?" Logan reaches across the table, unable to keep his hands to himself, takes Kendall's thin fingers in his.

"You always did know how I liked my eggs." Kendall gives Logan a half-smile, the green of his iris glowing against the red lines in his eyes. It's like he's reading something in Logan, staring into his thoughts, his heart, his very soul. "Remember how you used to make my breakfast smile?"

Now, Logan laughs, a quiet, breathy thing, a memory of a fondness of a moment long gone. "How could I forget?"

Kendall breaks the gaze and looks at his plate again. "You know, I'm not really hungry," Kendall whispers, the words so quiet Logan strains to hear them.

"I know you're not, but you still need to eat." Logan pushes the plate closer to Kendall. "Please? For me?"

The memories in the air are so tangible, the men breathe them in. Logan urges Kendall to eat as though their precious moments are solid enough to be made into sustenance, and they could provide Kendall the nourishment he needs.

Kendall nods and begins to nibble and graze, looks of disgust marring his features. Logan sighs in relief when he eats about half the plate before putting down his fork.

"I'm sorry," Kendall says, and Logan is confused for a moment until realization dawns.

"Please don't, Kendall." Before Logan knows it, he finds himself crying, hot angry _sad_ broken tears burning trails down his face. "Just keep it in, okay? You can be okay again. I promise. I promise, Kendall.  _Please._ "

"I'm  _so_  sorry, Logan." And Logan believes Kendall, actually, even as he gets up from the table and bolts for the bathroom, moving faster than Logan would have believed.

Logan gives himself a moment to grieve, shrugs aside the feeling of betrayal. He removes the phone from his pocket and makes a call.


	13. Chapter 13

Kendall is happy as fuck.

The sun shines every single day and Logan is so damn  _beautiful_ in it. He's beautiful in the rain, too. And in the kitchen and the studio and on airplanes and sitting in the grass. But Kendall thinks he's fucking gorgeous on his back, the flush on his cheeks traveling down his neck, his chest, a full-body blush no one sees but Kendall.

So this is what it's like to be beloved.

To be in love.

To love someone as much as they love you.

They go on tour and sing their hearts out, lyrics on their lips and something like contentment in their hearts.

Kendall touches Logan now, even in public. It's a force he can't stop, magnets in his fingertips, his palms. He tries not to be so obvious, but the only time he doesn't ache is when his hands are filled with Logan's flesh.

On stage, he watches Logan, sly glances and private smiles. Logan returns each and every look, as though Kendall's gaze were projecting heat and flame. Life and music and days and days are filled to the brim with passion, passion,  _passion,_ and Kendall knows there is nothing he could ever be as addicted to as Logan's mouth, curling up at the corners.

The times they are alone are frenzied, frantic and desperate. Words whispered upon a panting breath, a sweaty knot of thrusting hips and long limbs.

And they haven't even had full on sex, not yet. But Kendall has been thinking about it. Frequently. Constantly. He knows he wants it to be more than a chase to bring each other off; he wants it to be more than a five minute hand job in the bathroom, a hushed dry hump in a closet. He also thinks about how things would work. Kendall knows parts go in other parts, but whose parts will go where?

It doesn't matter though, not to Kendall. It doesn't matter because all he wants is to be with Logan.

Kendall puts some weight back on, despite the rigorous dance routines. Logan and he share a tour bus, and Logan finds the most inventive ways of feeding Kendall when they are alone. A piece of his favorite candy between Logan's lips, a smoothie with two straws, pancakes with chocolate chip or blueberry smiles. The sick feeling in Kendall's stomach has been replaced with that fluttery, nice sensation he always associates with Logan, a burst of affection he had almost made himself forget.

The last stop of their tour is done, and they are exhausted, the screams of countless fans still echoing in their ears. It's just an eleven hour drive back to L.A., and Logan falls asleep almost immediately once they are on the bus.

Kendall is tired, but too restless, keyed up to sleep. Instead, he watches Logan, his face so innocent and smooth in sleep. Here he is, at his most vulnerable, and he trusts Kendall enough to sleep like an infant. These are the moments in which Kendall basks, because he can pretend they are just two normal guys, no secrets. He can remember countless sleepovers where a brush of Logan's skin against his was  _everything._

All is quiet, save the sounds of the road, the vibration of the motor and Logan's steady breathing. That same old want flares in Kendall, and he needs to be pressed against the other boy, draw out the heat of his sleep-warm flesh. He shrugs off his flannel top and pulls his t-shirt over his head. As smoothly as possible, he slides in the small bunk next to Logan and moans in contentment when two steadfast arms wrap around him, as though the need to be close were as automatic as breathing for them both.

Kendall splays his hands on Logan's chest, searching out the ever-present  _thumpthump_ of Logan's heart. He finds it easily and places his cheek against the spot. He knows Logan is waking when the rhythm speeds, a deep inhale rushing through the other boy's lungs. There is a moment of silence before a breathy chuckle tickles Kendall's ear.

"Your hands are so cold," Logan says, squeezing Kendall so that he has to burrow his face into the crook of Logan's neck. Kendall breathes in until his chest hurts, trying to absorb the heady scent of Logan, all cool snow and sleepy skin and boy. Puckering his lips, he places the softest of kisses against the column of Logan's throat, feels a gulp against his mouth.

Logan pulls back the smallest bit so he can look at Kendall, nostrils flared and heavy lidded eyes. Kendall has come to recognize the expression with ease - a look telling of desire. "Your lips are cold, too," Logan whispers, leaning in to press his mouth against Kendall's.

And Kendall completely throws himself into the kiss, as he does with everything else in his life. HIs hands move from Logan's chest into his hair and pulls himself so close to the other boy, not even the smallest breath of wind could pass between them. The thunder of Logan's heart presses against Kendall's chest, syncopating and alternating with the beat of his own. And it's all skin on skin, so much and not enough.

They both think the time is right, know it in the blood rushing through their veins, the speeding of their breath, their very bones. They strip each other until they are completely unclothed. The  _need_ permeating the air intensifies when their naked hips slide against one another, thighs weaving together as though the choreography they constantly practice is translated into something so much more intimate.

Kendall attempts to straddle Logan's hips, but there just isn't room in the bunk, the move he makes providing a delicious friction right where he needs it. He groans and arches his back as the joy of it warms his groin, and he promptly bangs his head on the top bunk.

Logan laughs and drags Kendall down to his chest, rubs the spot on the taller boy's head. He peppers kisses over Kendall's forehead, moves his fingertips to Kendall's back and delivers light touches down his spine. Kendall shivers. Flipping them over, Logan matches himself against Kendall, props himself over the other boy on his forearms.

"I hit my head," Kendall says, laughter escaping his mouth, the nervous happyperfectjoy feeling bubbling past his lips.

"You did," Logan replies, joining Kendall in his chuckles. The laughter seems to make their bodies fit in an altogether new way and the nervous sounds fade as quickly as they came on.

Logan moves his hips, presses down, and Kendall's eyes close and he can't help the wanton sound he makes. Logan moves again and again and again until Kendall can think of nothing but the other boy. He digs his fingers into Logan's hips, bucking upwards and erratically moving his hips, some variation of the word  _yes_ tumbling from his mouth. It seems almost instinctual to Kendall to part his thighs and wrap them around Logan, his feet flat on the bed so he may thrust upwards. Logan's hips fit perfectly between Kendall's and they are drowning in sensation as the tempo of their thrusting speeds.

Kendall doesn't realize Logan's intentions until he feels the heat of Logan's fingers squeezing his thigh and smoothly travelling down, down, across the curve of Kendall's ass until there is a single digit circling his sensitive entrance. Kendall jumps in surprise, clenching his muscles involuntarily.

They've messed around like this before, of course they have, but Kendall knows this is more. Much more.

"Hey," Logan breaths, mouth still pressed against Kendall's. Kendall hears Logan in the drawer next to the bunk, and he knows what comes next. Logan kisses him - a long, slow, chaste press of lips, love pouring through like water to a cup. "Hey," he starts again, now slickened fingers sliding between their bodies, once again finding Kendall's opening. "I love you," says Logan, inserting a finger inside.

And Logan plays Kendall's body, wiggling his fingers  _just right_ and stretching and filling and kissing Kendall here and there and everywhere his lips are met with skin. Kendall moans and groans and mumbles, his fingernails biting into the flesh of Logan's arms, his back, his ass. Logan works Kendall until he is loose and desperate, both boy's bodies slick with sweat, cocks hot and hard as tempered metal, sliding together easily in the precome on their stomachs.

"Now," Kendall groans. "Do it now.  _Please._ " He spreads his thighs wider still, moves his body upwards to urge Logan's cock closer to his hole.

There is a movement of hips, murmured endearments, a thrust so slow the world stops and Logan finds himself sheathed in Kendall's body. Kendall is no virgin, but this is new, this vulnerability, this pleasurepain so raw and real. Something he can give after all he has taken.

Logan sighs and moans, his brow furrowed in concentration, sensation so good it aches. He expels a long breath and opens his eyes to look down at Kendall. A lovely smile, full of wonder, grows on his face. "I'm inside you," he murmurs, no small amount of awe in his voice, as though this were something he had wanted his whole life. Kendall knows the feeling.

"I love you too," Kendall whispers, claiming Logan's lips and opening the other boy's mouth. "Move." He clenches around Logan's cock and bucks up, showing Logan with his body how ready he is. Logan obliges, and they begin thrusting and panting and searching and finding, giving and taking. This is a culmination of years full of nothing but _want_ need _want,_ boyish playtimes, secrets shared and kept and worn on the heart like scars.

Kendall has heard it said when a person experiences pleasure such as this, they see stars or fireworks, an entire rainbow of colors, the earth moves. For Kendall, all he sees, all he feels, is Logan. Oh, but he sees colors. Logan's skin in a Minnesota winter, pale and milky white, untouched and inviting. Logan in the L.A. summer, smooth and latte brown, the hair of his arms shining golden against his flesh. Logan's dark head of hair in the moonlight, blue-black and silver. He sees the fireworks of Logan's eyes as they dilate to take in more Kendall. The earth moves because Logan moves it.

So this is what it's like to make love.

To feel it from the skin between fingers to the top of a head to the heels of a foot.

Every bit of Kendall is humming, alive.

Logan's pace has become frenzied and Kendall knows he'll finish soon. Kendall feels Logan's cock brushing against that spot inside him, but he knows he won't be coming as soon as Logan. It's okay though, because this isn't about release.

"I can't stop it," Logan pants. "Oh,  _god,_ oh god, you feel so good.  _Fuck._ "

Kendall pulls Logan into a kiss once more, whispers and tells him it's okay, asks him to come, to fill him with everything. Pressing his forehead against Kendall's, Logan shouts his release and love and overwhelming joy.

"You didn't?" Logan looks toward Kendall's still needy body.

"No, but it's ok-  _God._ " Kendall doesn't have a chance to finish his sentence before Logan takes the other boy in his mouth, effectively bringing him off with his wicked lips.

When they are finished, Kendall feels good. So good, he curls into Logan, once again presses his ear against the other boy's heart. They are sweaty and dirty and sated and loved. The steady percussion lulls him to sleep, the steady breathing of Logan following him into dreams.

So this is what it's like to be content.

To want to grab a moment, put it away and relive it later.

To believe happily ever after really might exist, if only for this.


	14. Chapter 14

"You're losing weight again," Logan says, pressing his lips against Kendall's once again prominent rib cage. Kendall pushes him off, pulls down his t-shirt.

"Logan," Kendall whines, "we only have a few minutes, can't we just - "

"I wasn't trying to start anything, just making a statement." His hands go up Kendall's shirt again, smoothing across chilled flesh, goosebumps rising where he touches. Kendall scoots to the headboard of the bed, sits up.

"Look, are you gonna suck my dick or just complain?" Kendall's mood flips like a coin, his eyes changing from lust-filled to angry in a flash. Logan starts at the cruel tone, the fierce set of Kendall's jaw.

"I'm not complaining, I'm just wor - "

"You're just worried. Always, you're 'just worried'." The blond rolls his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose between his eyes.

They've kept this secret between them for a year and a half, moments of bliss, stolen seconds of a relationship. A life of have and have-nots. It's been wearing on Kendall as of late, Logan can tell.

"What's wrong?" Logan asks, moving in closer to Kendall. The other boy throws his hands up, palms out, a gesture of defense.

"Nothing, okay? Nothing."

"I don't believe it, Kendall. Please don't start keeping things from me again. I can't take it, not again." Logan tries to keep the pleading tone from his voice, but he can't help it. Trying to hold onto Kendall is like trying to hold a fistful of water - hold on as tightly as possible only to lose it faster. "Will you look at me?"

After huffing, Kendall obliges, the anger finally melting away. "I'm sorry," Kendall offers, opening his arms. Logan moves into them, wraps his arms around Kendall's thinning chest, rests his head on a sharp shoulder. "Logan, people are starting to notice."

"Notice what?"

Kendall snorts, the breath expelled tickling Logan's scalp, moving his hair. "Notice me and you. Notice we're more than friends."

"What makes you say that?"

"The blogs? The fansites?" Kendall huffs, as though Logan should be noticing these things, searching them out.

"Since when do you care what those people think?" Logan asks. Kendall moves out from underneath him, stands at the side of the bed.

"Since those people started scrutinizing me. Since those people started being responsible for our success as a band. Since the moment we landed in L.A., Logan, that's when." Kendall shakes his head. "Don't you get it?"

"I must not," Logan deadpans, his own anger flaring.

"We can't be gay. We aren't supposed to be."

Logan's heart is breaking. He has known since the moment he started this  _thing_ with Kendall, they would have to be cautious, secretive. But it hadn't stopped the hope he kept that someday they would be more. He longs to hold Kendall's hand as they stare out at the ocean, kiss his lips when something makes the other boy smile, slip an arm around Kendall's waist when affection begs him to. Would Kendall ever be okay with that?

"I guess this is a bad time to tell you I think James knows." Logan  _knows_ this is a bad time but doesn't care. As careful as they've been, something like the emotion the two boy's share to near impossible to keep, especially from those they care about.

"Wait. What?" Kendall shouts, a look of pure panic crossing his features.

"Yeah," Logan says, tone even and calm. "He asked me a few days ago what was going on with us. I told him to ask you about it."

"God, Logan, why didn't you just lie? Now he's really got to think something's going on.  _Fuck._ What am I gonna do?  _What am I going to do!_ " Kendall has gone into full blown meltdown, pacing back and forth with hands in his hair. Frankly, it's frightening to Logan, and he regrets having said anything. He stands up, goes to where Kendall moves about frantically and stills him.

"Kendall, stop," Logan urges, shaking Kendall where he holds him, not harshly. "Are you really saying I should lie to one of my best friends?"

Kendall shakes his head, blinks his eyes. "I don't know what I'm saying." He covers his eyes, presses against them with the heels of his hands. Finally, he looks at Logan. "You know how much I love you, right?" He pulls Logan into a back-breaking embrace, hides his face in the crook of Logan's neck.

"Yes," Logan replies. "I do. And I lo - "

A door slams and Kendall jumps away from Logan, straightens his clothing and walks out of the room.

"I love you too," Logan whispers to the empty spot Kendall seconds before inhabited.


	15. Chapter 15

Every nerve ending in Logan's body feels on edge, the sand and surf burning his already summer stung skin.

He should be running but he can't move; he should scream, but his voice is mute. His mouth hangs open, his jaw dangling like a marionette.

There in the waves, amongst the flotsam and jetsam, he watches his other half, the missing piece of himself, bob with the cadence of the ocean, face down. Kendall's honey-colored locks fan out around him like a halo. The blond man's shoulder twitches, a scary cloud of red blossoms from the area of his face, and Logan is moving, panic pushing him into the water.

And it seems like a dozen lifetimes he presses against the waves, phantom fingers urging him to flee, return to shore, to shed Kendall like an ill-worn coat, an unneeded skin.

But he can't,  _oh god,_ he won't. Not when he would not survive the loss.

Salt invades his eyes, his nose, his mouth, but he keeps moving, keeps his gaze locked on the man still moving, only just. Kendall seems to be getting farther away, steadily moving outward with the setting sun. Like that dream Logan always had, still has, where he runs and runs and runs, trying to catch Kendall's retreating form, only to find himself no closer than when he started.

It doesn't take a shrink to know the meaning of the dream. But this is real. Terrifyingly, unquestionably real.

Logan reaches Kendall; finally, he tows him to the shore, unsure if the pulse against his arm is his own or Kendall's. He drags him to the beach, looks about frantically for help. He screams for it. There is a lone jogger ages away.

"Think," he mumbles, his brain, overwrought, seeming to slide out his ears like oatmeal, useless and runny. "I know CPR. I've read CPR." He screams for help again. The jogger seems to speed up.

He starts pumping Kendall's chest, irreparable bits of himself breaking as he feels Kendall's ribs crack under his hands.  _He'll get better. He'll get better,_ Logan thinks, pressing down the appropriate amount of times before lowering his mouth to Kendall's, holding closed his nose, sharing his breath.

And Logan has water on his face, tears and ocean, Kendall's lips so cold, blood smattering around his mouth. Kendall has tasted like so many things, salty and sweet and warm and hot, but never this coppery, cold, dead flavor invading Logan's mouth.

"No, no, no, god, no," Logan sobs, everything blurring as he returns to chest compressions. "Dammit, Kendall, fucking  _breathe,_ " and Logan forces more air into Kendall. The taller man looks so small now, starved and broken, eyes barely cracked and staring blankly at the twilight. Logan has never felt the absence of Kendall so profoundly.

The runner comes up behind them, says he's called an ambulance and all Logan can do is keep doing what he's doing. Begging. Urging Kendall back to his body with the strength of his hands.

When the ambulance arrives, they won't let Logan ride with Kendall. They won't even tell him if Kendall is really dead or only pretending or sleeping or if this is some joke.

Logan places his fingertips upon his mouth. They seem cold, as though Kendall leached the heat from them.

He hopes that frightening press of lips was not their last.


	16. Chapter 16

"Kendall," Gustavo says, "come talk to me."

"We're practicing these harmonies," Kendall replies, "can't it wait?" He looks to his friends, at Logan.

"No, Dog, it can't." Gustavo's voice rises. He punches a thumb over his shoulder. "They can practice their parts. Get in the hallway, now."

Kendall's stomach knots; he takes a thick swallow. Logan catches his eye, passes a look of encouragement. Kendall's heart plummets further. He has a good idea what this conversation will be about.

Things have been too good, too long.

Well, things the last few months have been strained, but Kendall only has himself to blame for that. He hates himself for the times he's snapped at Logan, but it's like the other boy has no idea how serious the situation is. No one can know.  _No one can know._

What Logan doesn't know, is how much the hiding hurts Kendall too. He loves Logan so fucking much, he wants to scream it from a rooftop, shout it through a megaphone, announce it to thousands of screaming fans at a concert.  _I love Logan Mitchell!_ He wants everyone and no one to be aware that he has this bundle of happiness so precious, he smiles just because Logan crosses his mind. When someone asks him why he has an extra bounce to his gait, he wants to blurt,  _It's Logan! He put that there!_

So to make room for all that extra emotion, for the agony and bridled joy, he hasn't been eating. There just isn't the space for food along with the size of his heart, the aching of his stomach. That has also put a strain on things. Logan just doesn't understand.

Kendall makes his way into the hallway, pulls the studio door closed as quietly as possible. Gustavo stands there - Kelly by his side - waiting, his expression eerily calm. Kendall smiles at them both and nods his head, puts his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. Gustavo stares at him long moments.

"Do you have any idea how much money you cost me?" Gustavo crosses his arms over his chest, lowers his chin. It's difficult to tell due to the colored glasses he wears, but Kendall swears his eyes are glowing red.

"Huh?" Kendall rushes through the possibilities and he's still left with confusion. There are a number of things Gustavo could be speaking of.

"Come with me to my office." Kendall gives Kelly a desperate glance and she looks back at him with an expression so sad and full of pity, Kendall's feet fail to function. He stays rooted in the spot and just stares at her, his brows pulling together, eyes stinging.

Now, he's sure he knows what this is about.

"Now!" Gustavo shouts.

"You'd better go, Kendall," Kelly whispers, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder. Finally, Kendall moves, nodding, no longer able to look at anything but his feet.

He won't cry. He won't, he won't. Not in front of Gustavo. Not in front of anybody, not anymore.

Once in Gustavo's office, they both sit and Gustavo waits several moments to speak. He breaks the silence by throwing a blank manilla folder in front of Kendall, the file hitting the desk with an ominous slap. Kendall's eyes go from it to Gustavo and back again.

"Go ahead," Gustavo urges, "look and see and know what I know." He gestures impatiently with his hands, his head, his calm quickly evaporating.

Kendall reaches out leisurely, as though he is unworried, but really he is protecting himself should whatever is in the folder strike out like a snake.

It does.

Inside, there are a dozen pictures of Kendall and Logan - touching, kissing, smiling, embracing. All black and white because it's over.

And they look so goddamn happy. Kendall didn't even know he could look like that.

He almost forgets to be offended someone was watching them because of the perfect way the photographer captured Logan's smile. Kendall remembers the day - a lazy afternoon spent on the beach, Logan's skin sun-warmed and shining, tiny prisms of light caught in the water droplets on his chest and stomach. Kendall hadn't been able to resist the urge to kiss Logan before they were indoors; he'd wanted so badly to know what Logan tasted like in the light of day.

He won't cry. He won't, he won't. Not in front of Gustavo. Not in front of anybody, not anymore.

Gustavo waits and waits for Kendall to say something, but he can't.

"I won't tell you how much money I had to give away to get those," Gustavo seethes. "And you're  _fucking_ lucky, Kendall. Lucky the chick who took those pictures didn't go straight to the media. You know that?" Kendall nods, as though he were a puppet on strings, his master expecting him to, commanding him. "And there's no legality to blackmail either. She could still take those pictures to the media. Probably has a dozen copies of each, a hard drive and a smartphone full of them." Kendall nods again, movements wooden.

Gustavo stops talking and Kendall feels the imposing man's eyes burning into the top of his head.

"Are you going to say anything?"

"Sorry," Kendall mumbles. He puts the pictures in the folder, closes it, resists the urge to ask if he can keep them.

"'Sorry'? I told you a long time ago to keep that  _gay_ stuff behind closed doors. And what do you do? You drag Logan into it. Is this really fair to him, Kendall? Why do you want to hurt people like this?" Gustavo is insistent, always trying to get a rise from Kendall, seeming to want to see him break.

Kendall forces a cheesy smile, throws his hands in the air and shrugs.

Putting his hands in his face, Gustavo sighs. "You know Jo Taylor is back in town."

"Yeah, I knew. We still talk from time to time, you know," Kendall replies.

"You act like that shouldn't surprise me," Gustavo says. "Her people want you two back together."

 _It's more than just_ her  _people,_ Kendall thinks, but says, "I got that feeling as well. From her, not from her people."

Gustavo bores into Kendall with his eyes, removes the colored glasses. Kendall begins to fidget under the scrutiny. It goes on and on and on and Kendall is about to break when Gustavo finally speaks.

"Make it happen."


	17. Chapter 17

"Why do I do this to myself?" Kendall chokes out, mumbles to himself with his head over the toilet, gagging and retching. He presses his cheek against the cool porcelain, uncaring how disgusting it might be - the temperature a balm to his overheated cheeks. He hears Logan's voice from the kitchen, muffled through the walls.

 _That's why,_ Kendall thinks. Because he has to be empty and strong and resistant. If he were full, he might want to feel things, and he doesn't want to want to feel things. Empty is all he wants. Control.

Kendall's brain still feels a little fuzzy, but it's clearing now that he's gotten some of the pills and booze out of his system. He should've known better than to put so much in his body, but at the time he'd just wanted to sleep, to be as blank as a sheet of unlined paper.

Why is everyone so worried about him? He knows what he's doing, has been doing it for years. He's not sick, but strong. Not weak, but willful. Maybe soon he will be so thin he can disappear. Maybe soon, no one will need him anymore. Not the band or Gustavo or Carlos or James. Or Logan. Kendall doesn't want to want Logan to need him, but he does.

 _Hey, where did Jo go?_ Kendall shakes his head of the thought. Doesn't matter.

He doesn't hear anyone approaching, but he feels a hot hand on his back, suddenly realizing he's still only wearing a bath towel. He lifts his head and looks at Logan.

"Hey, weren't we just here? Deja vu, Buddy," Kendall says, thoughtlessly reaching out and grabbing Logan's pants, pulling him closer. Kendall wraps his arms around Logan's legs, presses his face against Logan's hip. God, he's so warm. How had Kendall forgotten? How does he live without the straight lines of Logan's hips, the gentle slopes of the other man's chest?

The answer is - he's not. Not really. Kendall stumbles blindly through each day, surviving, but only just.

"What are you doing, Kendall?" Logan's voice is pained, cracking down the middle like a broken heart. Kendall winces, knowing he put the break there.

"Just giving you a hug," Kendall replies, craning his neck and looking straight up. "Looked like you needed one."

Logan sighs and squats down on his haunches, on eye-level with Kendall. He reaches out and touches Kendall's face, so light Kendall might mistake it for a breeze, the wings of a moth.

"What can I do, Kendall? What?" Logan's words run together, his face drains of color. Kendall has to look away - the expression painting Logan's face threatens to pry him open, make him feel things.

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong."

Logan shifts so quickly Kendall almost falls over. He walks to the door, clenching his fists and releasing them, clenching and releasing. The strides he takes are heavy and pound against the tile, and Kendall is sure he's leaving. But he stops. The muscles in his neck and back tense, shoulders squared. Kendall hears him taking several deep breaths. He turns back around and his eyes are red, bloodshot, puffy around the edges.

"I'm so tired, Kendall. Exhausted. Drained. Don't pretend anymore, please? I fucking know you, man. I know you, and I know you're not okay, so stop pretending you are." There's this strange calm around Logan, his stance, his even voice and Kendall hates to admit the way it makes him ache. There's always an ache, when it comes to Logan.

"I'm not prete - "

There's a tentative knock on the bathroom door and Kendall's mom comes in. She sees Kendall and gasps, a hand covering her mouth. Kendall immediately feels a horrible sense of shame and tries to cover his chest with his hands. He turns on Logan, tries to stand but stumbles, remains seated in the floor.

"You called my mom? What's wrong with you? Why would you go and do that when  _nothing_ is wrong? What is this?" Kendall sputters, his brain running faster than his mouth will allow. Logan opens his mouth to reply and Mrs. Knight interrupts him.

"Logan is your friend, Kendall. He called me, yes, but his wasn't the only call I got today." Kendall notices a long look passing between Logan and his mom. "Logan, will you give us a few minutes, please?"

Logan is reluctant, but nods. Kendall stares daggers at him as he exits the room, betrayal burning in his chest. How could he?

The door closes behind Logan and silence rings out like church bells. It's Mrs. Knight who breaks it.

"Oh, Baby, why are you doing this?" Her words taper into almost nothing and she crosses her arms over her chest. She looks around the bathroom and finds another towel, wraps it around Kendall's shoulders and rubs his arms. Settling into the floor beside her son, she looks him straight in the eye. "Don't you know you're killing yourself?"

Kendall scoffs, rolls his eyes. "Mom, I'm fine."

"Kendall, you couldn't even get out of the floor. Have you looked at yourself lately? Really looked?" Thinking it over, Kendall can't recall the last time he stood in front of a mirror and purposefully inspected himself. Sure, he passes mirrors all the time, but never really stops. He shakes his head.

"Come on then," Mrs. Knight says, standing and helping Kendall to his feet, guiding him to the full length mirror. She takes the towel from his shoulders. Kendall looks at his ribs, runs his fingers across them, moves his lips as he counts. He sees the protrusion of his collarbone, his shoulders, his hips. To him, it's still too much. He can still see himself.

"I look fine," he whispers, not saying what he wants to say. Not saying how he wishes there were less of him, how he wishes to be so paper thin and opaque he could slide under a door and hideaway, let light shine right through him.

Mrs. Knight is holding back tears, trying to be the one in control, the mother and father Kendall needs. She turns him around so his back faces the mirror.

"You don't, sweetheart. You don't. Look over your shoulder."

Kendall starts to shake his head. The bright lights around the mirror reflect in his mother's eyes as he looks at her. And it's in her eyes he sees his face.

 _Really_ sees his face.

He's been looking at his body. But there, amongst the sadness and desperation and fear and determination in his mother's brown irises, he sees the gauntness of his face - the hollowed cheeks, the vacant expression, chin prominent and bony. He sees the sorrow, the all-encompassing woe etched on his features as though it had been chiseled there.

Kendall sees himself and starts to sob.

He leans against the mirror and sinks to the floor, knees to his chest like a child. His mother gathers him in her arms as if he were one. He clings to her and he cries. He cries for Jo and for his friends and for his mother and his sister and himself, but most of all he cries for Logan, because Logan is still here. Logan is  _still here._ How the hell does he stand it?

Kendall is breaking.

" _Mama,_ " he whimpers, "You know I love Logan don't you? Don't you? You know I have since forever and I've just been awful about it. I don't know what to do anymore." Kendall thinks of all the people he is letting down with a few sentences, and he cries harder.

"Kendall, I've always known, and it's okay, baby." She stops to hold him closer, whisper love and smooth down his hair, wipe away his tears. "Is that what all this is about? Why would you - "

"I can't be gay, Mom," Kendall interrupts, the same old diatribe flying from his lips, the words spat out like the foulest thing Kendall has ever tasted.

"Who says? Why haven't you talked to me about this before?"

"When we first came to L.A., I told Gustavo and h - "

" _That_ man. I should've known. This is ridiculous, sweetie. You should just - "

"Throw away five years of my best friend's lives? Make all that work pointless?" Kendall is trying to calm down, but speaking the words aloud, the devastation pours over him again and he begins to feel sick. He barely makes it to the toilet before he starts heaving up stomach acid. He flushes before Mrs. Knight can see the bright red spots.

"Honey, I'm taking you back to Minnesota." Her eyes are open wide, her voice all seriousness. "Today even."

"Mom, I'm an adult." Kendall wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, drags himself to the sink to rinse his mouth out. "You can't do that."

"Oh yes, I can. I'll find a way. You can come quietly or not so quietly. I'm not just going to... I'm not letting this continue. You need to get away from this. Now."

Kendall sorts through the options. There simply isn't a good one. Not anymore. The ruins of his life still smolder at his feet, the 'could have beens' and 'should have beens' waltzing through his head in a disgustingly frivolous dance. Kendall is feeling everything right now, and the weight of it takes his breath away.

How can he retreat to Minnesota and then face his friends afterwards? This would ruin them all. He thinks of all the tour dates and obligations he would be missing, the rumors, not to mention the legal ramifications of skipping out on his contract.

In the end, Kendall makes a decision using the same thought process he always does,  _What would be best for everyone else?_

Maybe everyone would be better off without him. Maybe he can make Big Time Rush immortal. Timeless. Remembered.

Kendall sighs, touches his face and looks at his fingers, shiny with tears. He does what he does best, wipes them away, puts on a brave face.

"Okay," he says. "But give me a few hours. I want to say goodbye to the beach."

Nobody loves a living rockstar as much as a dead one.


	18. Chapter 18

"Isn't poetry a little gay?" Carlos asks, sneering at the book their tenth grade English teacher passed out.

They all laugh, Logan squirming at the easy, thoughtless slur. It's so common; why should it bother him? Kendall notices, piping in, "You mean poems prefer the company of other poems?" He laughs, throwing a pillow at Carlos's head.

"No, I just mean... Aren't you going to feel a little silly reciting a poem in class and then talking about how it makes you feel?" He laughs and throws the pillow back at Kendall.

"Not me," James chimes. "Ladies love a guy who can spout poetry." He flips through the pages of the book Carlos discarded.

"Me either," Kendall adds. "Poetry is just like song lyrics without music, right? It's not 'gay' to sing, right?"

"Well," Carlos smirks, "that's to be determined." He grabs the book from James, furrows his brow. "Do you think I could just read some Dr. Seuss?"

Kendall smiles, tosses the pillow again. He's actually excited about the assignment. More like he's simply looking forward to hearing what Logan reads, what he thinks. Logan could talk and talk and Kendall never gets tired of it. The way his eyes open wide when he speaks about science or history, the way he doesn't even know how handsome he looks when his cheeks redden with passion - it all makes Kendall's heart flutter like the wings of a hummingbird.

Kendall looks at Logan now, his mind clearly somewhere else. Stretching out a leg to where Logan resides in Kendall's floor, he kicks the bottom of the other boys shoe. "Earth to Logan," he says. Logan jumps and lets out a surprised chuckle. "Whatcha thinking about?"

"Nothing." Logan stops. "Poems," he adds.

 _Me,_ Kendall imagines, hopes.  _He was thinking of me._

~K/L~

"Logan," the teacher calls, "it's your turn." She smiles as Logan rises from his desk, and Kendall stifles a giggle. Since they were children, Logan has always been the teacher's pet. Not that Kendall could blame any of them.

Logan is nervous; Kendall can tell. The dark-haired boy looks to his friends for encouragement, garnering a thumbs up from Carlos, a nod from James, an upturn of the mouth from Kendall.

Kendall feigns disinterest as Logan stands straight, pats his pockets.

"Did you forget your paper, Logan?" the teacher asks, voice full of sugary sweetness.

"No... no, I don't need it. It's all oral, right?"

"Yes, that's right. You have it memorized?" she questions, eyebrows rising.

"Well, yeah," Logan replies, as though memorization were automatic, normal. For him, Kendall knows, it is.

"Go on then." The teacher gives an encouraging wave of the hand. "Whenever you're ready."

Kendall hears Logan take a deep breath, somehow, over the thundering of his own heart. When will the crazy effect Logan has on him stop? Kendall thinks maybe he never wants it to. He urges the pounding in his ears to quieten, because Logan begins speaking in a low voice.

"'I have no Life but this —

To lead it here —

Nor any Death — but lest

Dispelled from there —'"

Logan's eyes flit everywhere but to Kendall, Kendall desperately trying to catch his wandering gaze. The boy speaking looks at his feet, blood rushing to his face. He smiles as though he has a secret.

"'Nor tie to Earths to come —

Nor Action new —

Except through this extent —'"

Finally, he locks eyes with Kendall, an expression so vulnerable and boyish, hopeful and frail on his face as he glances up, his head still bowed.

"'The Realm of you'," he finishes.

"Very good, Logan," the teacher says. "What do you think it means? How does it make you feel?"

"Well, some might say it's about codependency. That it means the poet exists only because the subject wills it so."

"And your opinion?" she coaxes. Logan breaks the connection between the two boys and looks at the teacher.

"I think it's about loving someone so much you're tied in with them. Life and death are synonymous with being together and separate from that person. Not in a way that makes a person weaker or submissive, but just in the way love works. You know?" Logan has begun gesturing with his hands, and Kendall feels warmth spread through his chest, his stomach. "There's a vulnerability, there always is in love, but it's not a bad thing. The poem is speaking of how much love affects a person, connects us to someone else. Sort of like magnets. They move, you move."

The teacher is nodding and grinning, seeming as lost in Logan as Kendall is. "That is a very well-thought analysis."

Logan looks to Kendall again and says, "Does that make sense?"

Kendall ponders Logan's words. He thinks of the kiss they shared, the memory of it still tightening his stomach, the want for more and more and more always flaring. He thinks of how Logan has become something to Kendall beyond a good friend, days only counted by how many casual touches he can fit, how many words he can get Logan to speak aloud. Yes, they are tied together, dependent. When Kendall is sad, Logan cries. When Logan is happy, Kendall smiles. Kendall feels invincible as long as Logan is never dispelled from him.

 _Yes,_ Kendall thinks.  _It makes sense. I move, you move._

He tries to tell Logan with his eyes.

Kendall hears what the other boy is saying, loud and clear.


	19. Chapter 19

Kendall asks Jo out before he breaks up with Logan. He doesn't think of himself as a cheater; he is simply holding out hope she will say no.

She doesn't.

In fact, she is thrilled, the curve of her smile warm and familiar. It could be worse.

But it could be  _so_ much better.

Kendall almost decides to wait for Logan to hear it or read it in some gossip column, stumble on some pictures in a tabloid. But Kendall has never been cruel. Or a coward.

Never should he have given in and been with Logan the way he was, with his body, his emotions fully invested. Now, his heart is breaking, and he will double that heartbreak when he tells Logan.

God, he's been so weak. But something about Logan, the press of his skin, the strength of his arms, makes Kendall forget his head and listen to something else entirely. With Logan, it's like he doesn't have to be anybody but who he's always been. Logan is like home and crisp Winter days and light, light, light. He is constant, solid. When Kendall imagines himself, old and shriveled, watching the sunset from a shaded porch, it's Logan's hand in his.

He must learn to let it go, let it go.

Because Kendall is certain Logan won't forgive him, not this time. He can't forgive himself, no matter what justifications he makes.

Kendall puts it off and puts it off until one night they find themselves alone in the apartment. And Logan is so sweet, so attentive; as soon as everyone is gone, he pulls Kendall into his arms, fingers and hands massaging Kendall's back and shoulders. Kendall doesn't mean to, but he lets out a defeated whimper. Logan immediately tries to console him.

"What's wrong?" he asks, delivering kisses across Kendall's forehead, in his hair. "I'll try my best to fix it."

Kendall frees himself of Logan's arms, the small separation already causing him pain. "We need to talk," he says.

"Does this have something to do with what Gustavo wanted last week?" Logan asks. He tries to reach for Kendall again, but he stands to keep from crumbling into Logan's arms. Kendall looks down at him, worry marring Logan's beautiful face and sits back down again, gravity becoming too much, or maybe just the pull of Logan's affection. He puts his hands on Logan's cheeks and just holds him there, attempting to set to memory the love reflected in Logan's eyes. Who knows when he might see it again?

Kendall leans in and presses his mouth to Logan's, lips warm as summer rain and soft _sweet_ soft, and tries not to let the pain in his chest unfurl in another whimper.  _Just one more kiss,_ he thinks, reveling in the rightness a simple press of lips can bring.

With herculean effort, Kendall pulls away.

"Why did that feel like goodbye?" Logan asks, whispers, the words passed into Kendall's heart like a heated spear. And the pain blossoms on Logan's face as a callalily placed on a coffin. Kendall can't bear to look at him, so he doesn't. Instead, his eyes are trained on the top button of Logan's shirt.

But that doesn't help, nothing does. He knows the rapid pulse beating under that button as though it were his own; Kendall knows how the hum of Logan's heart feels beneath his lips. He stands again, turns his back.

Maybe he is a coward after all.

"Because it is," Kendall breathes, quiet even to his own ears.

"What?"

Kendall struggles for words, tries to speak around the knot that has risen from his chest to his throat. "Jo's back," Kendall offers in reply.

"And?" Kendall hears a shift behind him as Logan stands, feels the heat of the other man on his back. He crosses his arms over his chest, pins his fingers under his arms so he won't reach out.

"And, she wants to get back together."

"Is that what you want?" Logan asks, a hand going to the small of Kendall's back, the gesture so familiar Kendall feels himself disintegrating, afraid of moving should he lose an arm, a leg.

"Well, um, yeah, sure it is," Kendall stutters, the lie making him uncomfortable, making him feel unclean. But what's worse? Allowing Logan to think this is what Kendall wants so he can move on, or giving him something to hold on to? Kendall thinks the latter. No, Kendall will shoulder this burden on his own.

"Can you look at me and tell me that?" Logan requests, his hands gripping Kendall's hips and trying to turn him around.

Kendall schools his expression, inhales, turns around.

Logan's eyes, like bottomless pits, dark as his hair.

"It's what I want," Kendall lies, smooth as silk, false as a million-dollar bill.

The other man nods, lips thinning to straight lines. Logan closes his eyes, covers his mouth. "But I thought you loved me. I mean," he pauses, swallows, opens his eyes, "I thought we were in love. I just... this was... what about  _us?_ "

 _God,_ Kendall thinks,  _this is too much, too much, too much._ But he says, "It was...fun. Sweet."

"Fun?" Logan scoffs. The sorrow and confusion switch to anger in a snap. "Do you really want to do this? Be  _that_ guy?"

Kendall shrugs, untrusting of his voice. All the while, he's screaming inside, wailing, beating his fists into the floor as a child in a tantrum, dissolving into a heap of uncontrollable sobs.

Logan shrugs his shoulders, mirroring Kendall, throws his hands in the air. "There are a lot of things I'd like to say to you right now. A lot of names I want to throw around and accusations I'd like to make. But you know what? I won't. Because I fucking love you, asshole."

He heads for the door, purposefully bumping into Kendall, pushing the blond back with his shoulder.

Kendall hears the door open, knows Logan pauses there looking back at him. "Whatever," Logan hisses amidst the slamming of the door.

That's when Kendall crumbles, knees to the floor and face in hands and lets himself break, if only for a moment.


	20. Chapter 20

"Would you please just do it, Logan?" Kendall's mom sounds small and foreign through the earpiece of the phone, reminding him of the miles and miles separating them. She's in the place Logan always thought of as home while he remains in California, handling things.

He sighs, the sound crackling through the phone. Nothing he could find in Kendall's condo could hurt him more than he is already hurting.  _Right?_

"Hello?" Mrs. Knight says after many silent moments.

"Oh, yeah, okay," he replies. "Do you want me to send anything or just give it away or...?"

"I trust your judgement, Logan." Her voice breaks. Logan hears a swallow then a small, breathy sob. "Thank you, dear. Really. For... just, thank you for everything." Logan nods dumbly at the phone, as though she could see him.

He says goodbye, hangs up and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, holds his breath until his chest hurts from keeping everything in.

Deciding to get it over with, Logan goes to Kendall's condo.

He's surprised when he finds Jo there, packing up some belongings.

"You don't have to move," Logan says, pulling Jo to his chest, giving her a tight hug.

"I just can't stay here, Logan," she replies. "Not after everything that's happened. There's just too much. It's like I see him in everything, you know?"

Logan wants to blurt out how much he does know and how much she doesn't. Instead, he simply nods.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, turning away and wiping her eyes.

"Oh, Mrs. Knight asked me to pack things up. She, well, she's having a difficult time. Understandably. Obviously. Expectedly," Logan says, mumbling under his breath, "God, can I come up with any more adverbs?" Jo expels a tiny, tired laugh.

"Do you need help?" she asks.

He wants her to take the burden; he wants to pass it off to her. "No," he says. "But you can stay with me while I..." His words stop, hampered by the feeling of loss, a feeling of incompleteness so vast a lacuna splits him, a void he has no idea how to fill.

"I'll stay," she replies, squeezing Logan's arm. "I'll help."

They start in the bedroom - Kendall's closet. Some of his jackets and sweaters still smell of him; Logan remembers the habit Kendall had of hanging clothes up unwashed. Now, he doesn't know whether to be thankful for it or angry. He finds Kendall's old hockey jersey from Minnesota and without thinking, clutches it to his chest, inhaling and lamenting the fading scent of Kendall in its fibers.

Jo stares at him, something like realization dawning on her features. She shakes her head and grabs a box on the top shelf, opens it and pulls out some books.

Something catches Logan's eyes, dog-eared pages and broken spine. He grabs it from Jo's hands.

A memory surfaces at the feel of the worn cover, the title of the book.

"Are you going to keep that?" Jo asks. "Kendall had that thing out all the time. It seemed important to him."

Logan flips through the pages, finds an old piece of lined notebook paper marking a place. He pulls it out, the creases obviously folded and unfolded countless times. His heart stops and vision darkens.

"I thought I'd misplaced this. I thought I'd lost it," Logan breathes, forgetting Jo stands with him, forgetting how confused she must be quickly becoming.

_I have no Life but this -_

He holds an assignment in his hand from tenth grade, a poem and thoughts written down he had set to memory. He hadn't needed it written down, of course he hadn't, but he thought it had been in his pocket.

Kendall took it. Kendall had it the whole time. Kendall has had it this whole time.

Logan's heart starts again, rabbiting in his chest, trying to run away.

The paper marked the page with the poem, the book passed out so many years ago.

He almost blushes when he sees where he had written Kendall's name in the corner, neat cursive script, next to the words  _I move, you move._

Pressing the paper to his chest, he tries not to crumple it as he moves to sit on the bed, his legs no longer supporting him. Jo remains silent.

Logan holds the emotion in, trying to cover for a man who no longer needs it. Jo sees through him anyway, comes to sit next to him on the bed.

"You loved him, didn't you?" she asks, her own voice cracking.

Logan nods.

"And," she swallows, "did he love you? Like, in a more than friend way?"

Logan looks at her, tries to seek out an emotion in her eyes, whether it be disgust, hurt, acceptance, love or everything in between. He doesn't have the strength to hideaway anymore, not now. So, he nods.

Jo's eyes go shiny. When she closes them, tears seep from the corners as she nods. "I'm sorry," she whispers before she loses her voice completely.

"No, no, no, please, don't," Logan protests. He doesn't know if he should attempt to comfort her, leave, or just sit here, but she answers the question by leaning into him.

They take comfort in each other.

Comfort over what has been lost.

"There's so much I should've noticed and never did," she cries. "Oh, Logan, god, you must hate me."

"No, Jo, you were always there for him, okay? None of this is your fault."

"I loved him so  _damn_ much, I would've overlooked anything. Anything to be with him."

"This is so fucked," Logan says.

When they finally part, the sheet of paper no longer pressed between them, it falls to the bed. Logan picks it up, presses his fingers to the indentations on the paper, recalls with perfect clarity the way he felt as he wrote them.

He's kidding himself if he thinks he won't follow Kendall  _anywhere_. North, South, Heaven or Hell. Doesn't matter.

They are an intricate puzzle, more than former lovers, best-friends. They are magnets who push or pull with a simple flip.

But Logan has always been sure they would come together in the end.


	21. Chapter 21

_No idea, no idea, that I'm even here,_  Kendall sings, watching Logan make eyes at some chick in the third row.

They're on tour, but things are a vast difference from the time with Logan.

Logan is leaving Kendall behind, each day the strain between them growing more normal, the absence of each other something expected.

Kendall hates it. He hates that he hates it. He should be glad Logan is flirtatious, taking steps forward and forward and forward some more. But does Logan have to be so goddamn good at it?

There's this part of Kendall, the part filed away solely with memories and thoughts of Logan that always rears its head and urges Kendall to think,  _Mine._ Just as he does now. The hundreds - thousands - of screaming fans looking at the stage, at Logan, at someone who belongs to  _Kendall,_ makes that same part almost feral with want, a need to claim unleashing.

He ignores it.

Ignores the tightening in his groin, ignores the bead of perspiration making its way down Logan's temple, ignores the way he knows he could catch it with the tip of his tongue, the flavor of sweat and Logan and want exploding in his mouth.

Kendall fails to remember the words of the song, only for a moment. Oh yeah,  _Come back to me._ How could he forget? He's feeling shaky, overexertion and lack of sustenance clouding his mind.

Jo's been talking about marriage. Houses. Babies. He's not even twenty yet, and his future is already ridiculously out of his control.

A bite of strawberry yogurt for breakfast. Three crackers for lunch. Raw carrots for dinner, sometimes a half-teaspoon of peanut butter if he's feeling especially shaky. Lots of water. He's discovered drinking a ton of water before someone might see him with his shirt off makes them less suspicious - a tiny bulge showing on his stomach. Sometimes, he throws it all up. Sometimes, he eats nothing.

Might as well marry Jo. Kendall loves her well enough. He can't marry Logan.

Logan refuses to run with Kendall now. Logan is the only one who  _really_ notices, although he says nothing to Kendall about it. It's all there though, in the worried pinch of his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, furrowed brow screaming  _pitypitypity._

Singing isn't so fun now, not when all the lyrics speak of love. The ones on heartache he sings with a special kind of fury. It might not be fun, but it has become the only time he feels honest.

Logan turns to look at Kendall, as though Kendall projected his thoughts. The other man gives Kendall a look reminiscent of those they shared way back when. Back when Kendall sampled the only bit of perfection he's sure he'll ever have. Logan's brows pull together as though he is confused, unsure why he would give Kendall a look so full of longing.

Kendall's want flares, a feeling - once so familiar - now foreign. Logan moves about the stage and Kendall practically fucks the other man with his eyes. The lines of Logan's hips, the slight swell of his ass, the way he moves. Kendall is struggling to hold it together. He sees the bulge in Logan's pants and feels almost sick wondering who put it there.

 _Me,_ he thinks, hopes,  _maybe he is thinking of me._

Kendall can't fathom Logan ever belonging to someone else. He doesn't want to - Logan has been Kendall's since that day in the snow when they were eight. But it's like Logan is the sun and Kendall the moon, always steps behind, a pale reflection of a light much brighter.

He follows Logan after the show, unsure exactly what he is doing, unsure what it is he is looking for. But Kendall has never remembered his hands feelings so empty, and he's sure Logan can do something about that.

~K/L~

Logan should be perplexed when Kendall slips into his dressing room, but he's not. He's still breathless, still riding high from the attention, the dancing, maybe from the way Kendall was looking at him.

The door has barely closed, the lock barely turned with a menacing  _click,_ when Kendall fists Logan's shirt, presses him against the wall and just looks at him. Kendall's eyes are bright with lust and desperation and a need to claim, all jade and emerald and citrine. Logan knows what this is about.

"What about Jo?" Logan pants out, his breathlessness only worsened by the proximity of Kendall, the heat of his exerted flesh seeping into Logan's. Kendall merely shakes his head, closes his eyes and leans in, placing hot, open mouthed kisses over Logan's neck.

Trying to protest, Logan presses back on Kendall's shoulders. Kendall ignores him and grabs his crotch, and Logan can't help but move his hips forward into Kendall's welcoming hand. He moans. So much for propriety.

And then Logan is not only willing, but a participant. He struggles with Kendall's shirt, the sound of fabric ripping cutting through the silence. Kendall deftly unbuckles Logan's belt, unzips Logan's pants, movements so practiced and familiar, picked back up like riding a bicycle. Kendall drops to his knees, taking Logan into his mouth with a ferocity that is almost painful, so Logan bucks forward without thought.

Logan tries to still his hips, looks down at Kendall sucking him off. Putting his hands in Kendall's hair, Logan grasps the sweaty strands a moment before his fingers travel down Kendall's throat, his neck. And Logan feels the protrusion of each vertebrae. He wonders briefly if Kendall is worried about calories from whatever leaks from Logan's dick.

As though Logan had spoken aloud, Kendall stands and presses Logan against the wall once more, Logan feeling each ridge of Kendall's ribs, even through the shirt he still wears. Kendall lifts Logan's top over his head as Logan pushes Kendall's pants down his hips. Logan turns around and faces the wall.

"What are you doing?" Kendall whispers.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Logan offers in reply, arching his back, contradicting his statement with his position. Kendall doesn't pause in reaching out, tracing his long middle finger down the valley of Logan's backside. He removes it only to slicken it up. And then Logan feels that wonderful press, the invasion that doesn't really feel like one at all.

Logan wants to look at Kendall while they do this, but he won't. That would be too intimate, too personal, Kendall would see too much. It already seems like much too much as it is. Kendall's free hand trails up and down Logan's spine, fingers featherlight and devastatingly heavy. Logan doesn't want this tender preparation anymore, this aching care in every touch, stretch, brush against that spot inside him.

"Just fuck me now," Logan breathes, arching his back further, bearing back on Kendall's fingers.

So Kendall does, scoffing, lining up and plunging in, arms encircling Logan's waist, his chest. If he didn't know better, Logan would think Kendall's palm searched out the beat of his heart. Logan feels Kendall's, the other man's torso stretched flush over Logan's back, the thunder of it so resonating Logan feels it in his arms, his head, his own heart.

He hides his face in the crook of his elbow so Kendall has no chance of seeing him.

Kendall straightens himself, hips snapping. It hurts and feels great, Logan's body unused to these types of sensations anymore, the sting welcome because it is Kendall inflicting it, the pleasure even more so.

Logan feels Kendall press his forehead into the space between Logan's shoulder blades, hot exhalations of Kendall's breath creating gooseflesh across Logan's back. "Say you're mine," Kendall pants, voice broken.

The words fly before Logan can stop them. "I'm yours."

Kendall makes a sound, some emotion behind it Logan cannot decipher, and he wraps his fingers around Logan's cock, tugs with the rhythm of his thrusts.

When Logan comes, spills himself over Kendall's hand, feels Kendall's body wracked with release, there is no joy it it. Nothing like it should be. Nothing like it was.

"Don't touch me like that again," Logan commands before heading to the bathroom and shutting himself in. He doesn't come out until he hears the slamming of a door.


	22. Chapter 22

_Beep, beep, beep..._

Kendall's heart, translated into a mechanic sound, emanates throughout the hospital room. Logan clutches his hand, all bony joints and cold, cold, cold. More often than not, he holds that hand against his cheek, trying to will some of his warmth into the other man.

_Beep, beep, beep._

It's all Logan hears, everything else filtered out; as long as the  _beepbeep_ sounds, Kendall is still alive. Even with all the tubes and bandages, the dry patches of skin on his face, the missing clumps of hair, his arms splayed out beside him like a discarded puppet.

Words like  _reduced kidney function, esophageal rupture, severe dehydration, possible reduced motor function, brain damage, comatose_ fly around Logan's mind, ricocheting off his skull and causing him unrest, a blinding headache.

They say Kendall's heart had been weakened because he has been starving so long. They say he has a multitude of problems and he was a walking time bomb. They say there's no way to tell if he tried to die on purpose.

Logan will never forget the look on Mrs. Knight's face when he admitted how long this had been happening, on and off. Something like betrayal, but more so disappointment. Logan felt like a kid again under her scrutiny, and he thinks how much he wishes he were one still. "Sometimes you can't save him all by yourself," she had said, just before she crumbled in his arms, a mass of grateful sobs tumbling from her mouth for the times he  _has_ saved Kendall all by himself.

The days run together as Logan sits and waits, and at some point he finally falls asleep, face pressed at an awkward angle on the edge of Kendall's hospital bed. He has this dream where he has wings full of holes and he can't fly, not the way he's supposed to. And then Kendall is there.

As always, Logan tries to reach for him but can never quite do it.

"Do you need some tape, man?" Dream Kendall asks.

"Would that help?" Logan asks.

Dream Kendall laughs, full dimples, cheeks rounded, skin glowing and healthy, body filled. He's so beautiful Logan's eyes hurt, but he won't look away. "No," Kendall answers.

"What then?"

"You'll just have to walk with me," Kendall replies. "It might take longer than flying."

Logan smiles. "I don't mind that. At all."

"Sometimes I'm a little slow."

"I don't mind that either. I'll wait. I always have, right?" Logan reaches out a hand, offers it to Kendall. "Together?"

Dream Kendall reaches out to take the proffered hand, but his fingers go transparent and pass right through Logan's.

"Take it," Logan urges.

"I'm trying," Kendall winces, again attempting to grasp Logan.

And then he's gone and Logan is surrounded by nothing.

"I should've fought for you," he whispers to the blankness.

Logan awakens to stark, bright hospital lights, scratchy linens against his face.

_Beep, beep, beep._

~K/L~

" _Suicide Attempt?"_ the headline screams. It's one of those tabloids with glossy covers, trying to pass itself off as a legitimate source.

In this case, Logan hates to imagine, it is probably right.

He holds a shot glass in his right hand, the crumpling magazine clutched in the other, white knuckles. Logan doesn't condone drinking to drown one's sorrows, but this once, he just can't be strong enough. He throws the shot back, hot liquid sting blazing down his throat, eyes watering. Eyes watering, but maybe not from the liquor. He left the hospital once he heard of the article, some silly fear of Kendall waking while he read it pushing him home.

" _Kendall Knight, unofficial frontman of Big Time Rush was hospitalized after an incident of near-drowning. Inside sources say Knight had begun withdrawing and isolating himself from his bandmates. Recent pictures of the singer show him looking increasingly gaunt (see inset A), leading us to wonder..."_

Logan's eyes travel to the picture, Kendall's haunted expression, everything about him rail thin. The caption reads, " _Eating disorder? Our source commented they never saw Knight eating, frequently avoiding group meals."_

Reading the article again, he gets to the part stating the " _speculation over Knight's sexuality"_ and " _his questionable relationship with bandmate Logan Mitchell during the absence of his on-again, off-again girlfriend, actress Jo Taylor."_

It reads on, more (not so)wild suggestions as to what led to Kendall's desperation.

Logan hopes it's not true, doesn't want to believe Kendall would keep such secrets, carry some burning torch for Logan but douse it simply for public relation's sake, think the death of him would correct it all.

But Logan knows it is.

Because he has never doubted Kendall loves him. He should've fought harder, let Kendall know they didn't need to be Big Time Rush if it cost Kendall his health. James and Carlos would've told him the same. How the fuck did it all get this far? It all seems so needless now. All for what?

Stupid, self-righteous, self-sacrificing asshole. Logan would punch him in the face and then kiss the bruise.

His phone has been blowing up all day, but he hasn't moved from the spot he sits, re-reading the article, looking at the picture, re-reading the article, looking at the picture. The sun is setting now, the light streaming through his window waning white-gold and reminding him of Kendall's hair when they were children. Logan thinks maybe he should scream or break stuff or writhe in misery, but he can't, his strength sapped, everything spent on willing Kendall to  _wake up._

But what will he wake to?

The phone rings again and Logan answers it. He can barely say hello before Gustavo screams, "This is a PR nightmare!"

Logan says nothing.

"What the fuck happened?" Gustavo demands.

"Kendall was drowning and I pulled him out," Logan drones.

"Yeah, but this article? I don't know how many times I told the kid to keep that gay stuff under wraps - "

"Wait, what?" Logan interrupts.

"All this about Kendall's sexual orientation? It's been a fucking firestorm all day, and you and Carlos and James haven't been answering your phones! After that shit with the pictures a year or two ago, I warned Kendall to stop being so emo - "

"What pictures?" Logan's thoughts are spinning and twirling, gaining speed like the beginnings of a hurricane.

"The pictures of you two being all  _gay._ " Gustavo says, and Logan can practically see the man's fingers wiggling, condescending movements with each flutter of his hands.

The final few pieces click into place for Logan and it all makes sense.

"So, you told Kendall he had to be straight?"

"Well,  _yeah,_ " Gustavo says, the words drawn out, mocking.

Resisting the urge to hang up on Gustavo, Logan says, "He tried to kill himself, Gustavo. Really."

For once, Gustavo pauses, sighs. "Look, Logan, I have a business to run." His tone is quieter than Logan can remember it ever being, a tinge of something Logan would not expect. Maybe pity? A modicum of compassion? "I had to make you guys popular. Successful. And I have."

"Yes, you have. What about now? Can we be honest now?" Logan asks. He thinks of the fans, the speculation, the crowds of girls screaming his name. He never needed any of it, not if it meant losing Kendall.

Gustavo huffs. "Let me try to handle this. Let's just see what happens, okay?"

"Okay," Logan replies, his stomach roiling. He begins to hang up when Gustavo stops him.

"Oh, and, Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"You, uh... You tell Kendall if... I mean  _when_ he wakes up to get better and get back to work, all right?"

Logan almost forgets how livid he is and smiles. This is as close to an apology Gustavo will ever offer, something nowhere near adequate. "Sure, I will." Logan closes his eyes, pauses, swallows his emotions along with another shot. "When he wakes up."

_If, if, if. Beep, beep, beep._


	23. Chapter 23

Kendall closes his eyes, perhaps too long, and turns his face to the sun like a flower searching the light.

Since he woke up, he sleeps with a lamp on, afraid of being lost to the blackness again, the suffocation of unconsciousness with the inability to wake.

He presses a cigarette between his lips, inhales and holds the smoke in until he is dizzy. Slowly, he exhales, opens his eyes, watching little yellow streaks float away in his vision. It's like he's exchanged one vice for another, but he's so used to ritual when it comes to food he needs something to do after.

There was a gigantic moth outside his window yesterday evening, wings shredded and maimed, and the state of it had disturbed Kendall so much he had been determined to search it out today. Of course, it is gone.

Kendall only hopes it has not given up. Maybe it flew away.

Stomach uncomfortably full, he concentrates on keeping it all in, letting it digest, do its work. It's been months and months, but he still feels nervous. He touches his ribs now as he thinks of his crowded stomach and has that flash of momentary panic when he can't count them all. He breathes, thinks of Logan, and wills the edginess away.

All he does is feel these days. Sadness, disgust, need, regret, lust, guilt. Each emotion inventoried and account for in therapy. He tries to set them free like ceremonial doves, give his emotions flight so they don't make him sick anymore. It's what his shrink says to do anyway.

He had to learn to use his fingers again, his hands. The first time he tried to strum a guitar after waking, he grew so frustrated, so sickened by his lack of control, he had thrown it down, cracking the neck. His fingers had been useless as drinking straws extended from his hand, spasming and twitching without his will.

There was this limp he had too, his left foot dragging behind him as a lazy janitor with his broom. He refused to let anyone come see him at the rehab facility - not even his mom - because everything about him had become too infantile. People helping him to the bathroom, spoon feeding him, watching him eat, offering an arm as he toddled along. It was the most humiliating experience of Kendall's life.

Now he's back to being as whole as he's going to be for the time being, frequent headaches he's not given narcotics for, infrequent pain in his legs and back he can ignore for the most part.

He eats three squares a day, two snacks.

They say he can go home, that it's time for him to try and take care of himself again. Kendall knows he can, but doesn't want to. He hasn't seen nor spoken to Logan since the day he almost drowned. Not that Logan hasn't tried. Frequently. Constantly. Not that Kendall doesn't want to see Logan; he does. It's just Kendall is ashamed. He owes Logan his life a hundred times over. Logan has no idea how much, how the mere thought of the other man has kept Kendall from giving up more times than Kendall can count on his fingers, his toes, his ribs, every blessed bone in his body. Kendall aches for him, even now, the separation felt so profoundly that when Kendall attempts to say Logan's name out loud, there is always a catch in his voice at the end.

Kendall tries to say it now - Logan's name murmured on an exhalation of smoke.

"Yes," Kendall hears, the word spoken in Logan's voice. Kendall thinks he should be well past hallucinating, but it sounds so real that he says the name again. Again, he hears the voice, but this time it says his name. "Kendall?" The way the voice speaks his name is so tender and sanguine, nothing like the anger he is sure would truly be behind Logan's voice. Still, he spins around on his heel towards the sound.

And Logan stands there, looking all casual and beautiful and perfect and unchanged, hands in his pockets. Kendall throws down his cigarette, stomps it out as though he's been caught doing something bad, which, he supposes he has.

"Kendall?" Logan says again, the name spoken as a question. Kendall swallows, his tongue feeling fat and useless in his mouth. Logan walks closer to him.

"Wh- Where's Mom?" Kendall manages to ask. Logan blushes,  _fucking blushes,_ and Kendall puts his hands in his own pockets to keep from reaching out, to keep from feeling the heat rush to Logan's cheeks. It's been  _so_ long, Kendall forgot how everything about Logan overwhelms him: his goddamn perfect hair, the straight lines of his chest and hips, his crisp and cool scent that always reminds Kendall of home. He breathes in deep. This is why he couldn't let Logan come see him, talk to him. Because he's already about to fucking cry over Logan saying his name, just standing in front of him.

"I, uh, well, I asked if I, uh, she asked if I... Well, she and I agreed I should come get you. Take you home. Today is the day, huh?" Logan sputters, letting out a nervous laugh, stupid, adorable dimples deepening on his cheeks. Kendall smiles for the first time it months, despite his watering eyes.

"What are you doing here? In Minnesota I mean?" Kendall manages to ask, inching closer to Logan just to be encircled in the warmth of him.

"For you," Logan answers, his expression communicating the "duh" Kendall knows Logan wanted to add. "I've been back a while, a long time." Logan looks over Kendall's shoulder, away from his eyes. "Just waiting."

Kendall is choked, mute, dumb, and he can't remember all the stupid, idiotic reasons he has been denying Logan anymore. Logan has been carrying the weight of all the verses and choruses of those sad love songs all this time, waiting. And he still stands here, waiting, looking complete and strong, ready to continue bearing it all. Kendall rubs his eyes.

"What about the band?" Kendall asks.

"There is no band without you," Logan answers, adding, "and that's fine. That's the way it should be. Gustavo says we can get back to work whenever, if you're ever, ready."

"I'm sorry," is all Kendall can think to say.

"Did you do it on purpose?" Logan blurts, as though the question were fire on his tongue.

"You already know the answer to that question, don't you?" Kendall returns. Logan nods, eyes going to the ground between them, the few feet that seem difficult to breach.

Logan sniffles, covers his eyes with a hand, the other arm going across his stomach. God, he's crying, and Kendall's heart sinks to his feet.

"I changed my mind though," Kendall quickly adds. Logan doesn't respond. "I was swimming into the ocean, trying to get lost in it, and the sun was behind these clouds and going down into the water, but then there was this tiny ray just beaming down and making one spot of water so blue, and I thought of how I wanted you to see it, Logan." In a movement so sudden, his arms are around the other man, hot tears seeping into the collar of his shirt, Logan's face hidden in the crook of Kendall's neck, and everything feels right, right, right. Kendall keeps talking. "And then I thought of all these things I wanted to see with you, the things we've seen together and how I didn't want it to end. I didn't want things to end - I don't, Logan - I just wanted them to be different."

Logan doesn't speak, but Kendall feels more wetness on his shirt, the skin of his throat, trailing across his collar bone. He thinks of how long it's been since he's seen Logan cry, the other man always putting on this front for Kendall, projecting tenacity, consistency. Being the strength to Kendall's weakness. Kendall wants to be strong for Logan now, make him proud, do right by him, finally. Kendall pulls back, lifts Logan's chin so their eyes meet.

"I haven't seen you cry since we were little kids," Kendall whispers. "Everybody has to have someone they can cry in front of. It's not a big deal. I'll be yours, okay? Besides, you've already seen me cry." The words are an echo from a time long gone, a moment when the biggest sorrow was lamenting a father whose absence has not been acknowledged for ages. That hurt was erased by someone so much more important.

Logan smiles, only just, and takes a sharp breath. "You look great, Kendall," he says. "Let me take care of you awhile?"

"Can't we take care of each other?" Kendall returns. Then Logan gives him that heartbreaking smile, the real one, lips curling in full, the window in a storm cloud, a glimpse of true utopia.

As individuals, they are broken, weakened by life, but together they are whole, pieces sliding together, locking into place.

Nodding, Logan says, "You'll have to quit smoking though." Kendall laughs, unshed tears seeping from the corners of his eyes.

"I can do that."  _For you,_ Kendall thinks.  _Things will be different, this time._

Logan offers a hand to Kendall, turning to leave. "Walk with me?"

Kendall takes Logan's hand, fingers interweaving and clutching, pressed together and solid and strong.

And they walk on, together.


	24. Chapter 24

"Is it true you and Gramps used to be in a band, Grandpa?" the little girl asks, wriggling in Logan's lap.

Logan laughs, the sound resonating and warm, echoing off the corners of the front porch. The sun filters through the trees, sneaks through the railings and makes these buttery orbs of sunshine, casting Logan's face in shadow and light, shadow and light.

Kendall's heart still speeds when Logan smiles. He loves the lines the laughter has made on his cheeks, surrounding his dimples, the silver at his temples like Logan's hair in the moonlight when they were young.

"It's true," Logan answers. The little girl gasps, grabs Kendall's hand from where she sits on Logan's knee.

"But you're so  _old._ You mean you used to not be old?" Now, Kendall chuckles, squeezing the little girl's hand.

"I was actually about your age when Grandpa moved here, just right across the street, to the left," Kendall answers, nodding towards the house that now has strangers living in it.

"Wow!" she exclaims, leaping up and covering her mouth with her hands. "But that must've been a hundred years ago!"

"Hey, hey," Logan interrupts. "More like forty." Kendall clears his throat, gives Logan a look. "Okay, fifty." A burst of raucous laughter erupts for Kendall and he kicks Logan's shoe. "All right, fifty-five, all right!"

Her eyes go saucer-wide, years beyond what her youthful mind can comprehend. "You've known each other  _that long?_ "

"Yep, we have," Kendall answers, pulling the little girl to his chest, giving her a squeeze. "Grandpa and I have something really special."

"What's that?"

"A best friend who never has to go home," Logan answers.

Kendall adds, "Someone who knows all your secrets and loves you despite them."

"Because of them," Logan interjects, passing a look to Kendall loaded down with fondness, a forever longing, full of hope, ghosts of the past that are more like old friends.

The little girl rolls her eyes, starts to head indoors. "You guys are so gross."

As the door slams, Kendall reaches for Logan's hand, kisses each tip of the other man's fingers, clutches it to his chest. They share a private smile. "She's just like her mom."

"Your heart is beating so fast," Logan murmurs, eyes shiny in the approaching twilight.

"It's because I love you." Kendall moves his chair closer to Logan, puts an arm over his shoulders.

And they watch the sun as it sinks below the horizon, between their clutched fingers, a lifetime.

~K/L~

"Just give me a little kiss," Kendall says, holding his index finger and thumb an inch apart.

"You know that's not all it would be, Kendall. I know that look, and the wedding starts in a few minutes. We can't be late." Logan reaches out for the knob, Kendall keeping him pressed firmly against the door.

"Come on," Kendall says, leaning in and stealing a press of lips.

Logan tenses, trying to remain unaffected, but he can't. This is how it's been, everyday, all the time. This spell he is under, powerless to the hypnotic feel of Kendall matched against him, chest to chest, hip to hip. And then Logan finds himself the aggressor, pushing Kendall to the bed, groaning at Kendall's submission.

So lost in each other, they don't hear the knock on the door, the click of the knob.

"Oh, Dads, gross! You guys are  _so_ gross. You're, like, almost fifty, gross!" the girl, woman now, says, covering her face with her perfectly manicured nails.

Logan hides his face on Kendall's chest, the warmth of the other man's laugh tickling his cheek. He peeks at the woman under his arm and feels this squeeze around his heart. She looks beautiful, dressed all in white, a single strand of pearls around her throat.

"We'll be right out, Jenn." Kendall stops to laugh again amidst the sounds of their daughter gagging. "We wouldn't miss this for anything, would we, Logan?"

"Nope, nothing," Logan answers, voice muffled.

"Be in the backyard and ready to walk me down the aisle in five minutes," she orders, making a final disgusted sound before slamming the door.

Logan rolls off Kendall, face beet red. They stand and silently begin tucking their shirts back in, straightening their hair, Kendall smirking all the while. He reaches over to redo Logan's bow tie, eyes sparkling with hampered laughter, contentedness and love.

"She looks beautiful, doesn't she? Grown up," Kendall observes, now smoothing down Logan's lapels.

"Yeah," Logan replies, smiling despite his flushed cheeks. "When did that happen?"

"I guess around the same time we got old and gross."

"We're distinguished, damn it."

Kendall presses his smile against Logan's, the flavor of a laugh enlivening them both, sharing that happy _perfect_ joy feeling.

"You're going to cry," Kendall murmurs against Logan's lips.

"So are you," Logan replies.

Later, when they've given her away, watched her pledge her life and love and the sun is shining its brightest just before it succumbs to night, they both shed quiet tears for what is lost and what is gained. Sometimes emotions are just too big to keep inside.

But they take comfort in each other.

~K/L~

"I hate you both," Camille hisses between clenched teeth. "I don't know how the  _fuck_ I let you talk me into this. I'm dying. I'm fucking  _dying!_ "

Kendall tries not to laugh as Logan fusses over her, putting a pillow behind her back, taking it away, feeding her ice chips, rubbing her shoulders, mopping her sweaty forehead. Logan has taken so many slaps to the face, Kendall thinks he should be offended on his behalf.

It's a small price to pay.

"You offered, Camille," Kendall says.

"Really? I don't remember that. I'm sure I would," she pants, throwing an arm across her face. "And wipe that stupid smirk off your face, Knight, or I'll keep this kid inside."

Kendall tries to stop smiling, but it's hard. He's excited. Thrilled. Feeling buoyant in a way he never has before.

He's going to be a father.

Looking at the monitor, he sees another contraction building and warns Camille. She screams and squeezes Logan's hand until his eyes cross. "I need to push. I need to push right the fuck now."

"Camille," Logan says, waiting until she looks at him to continue. " _Language._ The baby can hear as early as the sixteenth week of-  _OW!_ "

"Go. Get. The doctor. Now," she orders. Logan bolts for the door, bumping into the fetal monitor, getting caught in the curtain along the way. Kendall takes his place holding Camille's hand. He smoothes her hair from her face.

"Thank you," he says, trying to convey the weighty mass of his gratitude. Her expression softens, and she smiles at him.

"You guys will be great dads," she replies. There's this quiet moment where Kendall thinks Camille really understands how much this all means, how being able to have a child with Logan is part of a future so lovely and complete he never could have imagined it.

The room becomes crowded as the nurses come in, check on Camille and decide it is time to push.

Kendall locks eyes with Logan over Camille's head as they hear the first tentative cries of the baby, each wail growing in intensity. Camille sobs in relief and Logan's face is wet, Kendall tastes salt.

"It's a girl," the doctor says, and Kendall gives Logan a double thumbs up.

Logan insists Kendall hold her first, and she's so tiny and rosy and light and the prettiest thing Kendall has ever seen. He had thought Logan filled his heart to bursting, that the love for Logan trumped everything, that love had a limit and Logan had it all. But as he holds the baby girl, feels her heart flutter against his palm, he feels his heart stretch and grow. Some new kind of love he hadn't known how to feel yet. And it's so much that Kendall is laughing and crying, and her little face is blurred by tears. He blinks and his vision clears as the baby purses her lips, miniature dimples appearing on each cheek.

Kendall finally tears his eyes away from her to look at Logan. "She has your dimples."

"No," Logan says, shaking his head. "Yours."

Not that it matters.

It's raining outside, but no one notices, water droplets pattering on the window, a gray day turned bright, a couple made into a family.

Logan wraps his arms around them both.

~K/L~

"Fucking faggots," some guy says, turning up his nose at Kendall and Logan's interlocked fingers.

Things aren't always easy.

There are people who hate, as is common with people.

It doesn't lessen the sting.

Logan only squeezes Kendall's hand tighter. "We're just trying to eat dinner, dude. Do you mind?"

"Yeah," he smirks.

"Just move along," Logan requests. After several more colorful, four-letter words are let loose, the man does.

Kendall pushes his food around for the rest of the meal. When they get home, Kendall locks himself in the bathroom.

"Kendall, Kendall, please, Kendall," Logan begs, pounding on the door, wondering why he hadn't removed the locks ages ago. He hears running water and that's all. After long moments, Kendall opens the door.

"What?" Kendall snaps.

"Why are you doing this?"

"I didn't do it," Kendall replies, an angry edge to his voice.

"I don't believe you. Why do you let stupid people get to you, Kendall?"

"Sometimes it's hard, okay? I can't be like you. I can pretend, but it still hurts."

"You think it doesn't bother me? But I don't go puking up my food because of it," Logan growls, immediately regretting the words once they are past his lips, but he doesn't back down.

"What the  _fuck_? I said I didn't. I haven't. You calling me a liar now?"

"I said I didn't believe you, didn't I?" It's like the part of himself Logan hates has wanted to say these things for years, shout at Kendall for hurting himself, for hurting Logan.

Kendall nods his head, rubs his hands over his face, puts his palm over his chest. "I guess I deserve that." He calmly gets his keys, goes to the door and leaves.

It takes about five more seconds for Logan to realize what just happened and pick up his own keys to follow Kendall, to apologize. He opens the door and Kendall is standing there. He rushes inside, slams the door behind him and the two men collide, arms wrapping around each other.

"I'm sorry," they both say, over and over. Logan takes Kendall's face in his hands, kisses his lips once, twice, maybe a hundred times.

"I didn't," Kendall says.

"I know. I know you didn't, Kendall." Logan traces a hand down Kendall's chest, presses on his stomach. "I just need you whole. I need you well, because I  _need_ you. I get so scared sometimes when you get upset - "

"I know you do, and I shouldn't let you think... I shouldn't react like that. I'm trying. I swear I am. It's you, though, Logan. It's you that keeps me from... that kept me from..."

"I know." Their mouths move together again, apologetic forgiveness kisses, grateful kisses, kisses, kisses, familiar but always so fair both men are lost in them, each other.

"You can take all the locks off the doors if you want," Kendall says.

"No, I trust you," Logan replies, not needing to lean in to claim Kendall's lips again because they never left.

~K/L~

They sing together under a banner proclaiming  _Welcome Back Kendall._ Nothing huge, a small show at a nightclub, just the four of them and Kendall's guitar.

Kendall's voice is strong and so are his arms and legs. Logan sees the passion in Kendall's face again, the force behind the lyrics moving everyone in the room.

Logan knows Kendall sings for him, for them both.

It's almost like Logan can forget the years gone by, the heartache, the time lost they will never get back. But it doesn't matter now, the past is a story to tell. Now is what they have, and now is fucking fantastic. Nothing could compare to the euphoria of having his best friend, the other piece of himself back on stage with him, their voices intermingling and carrying, ringing true.

They're nearing the end of their set, and Kendall starts talking.

"I want to thank everyone for coming out and supporting us after all this time. Thanks everyone for the well-wishes and good thoughts. I know they helped while I was away." He stops talking to look at Logan. Kendall swallows and the deep breath he takes is amplified in the microphone. Slowly, with a shaking hand, he reaches over and grasps Logan's fingers. "This last song is for Logan, without whom I wouldn't be here today." He lets go of Logan's hand only to strum his guitar, and he starts to sing.

It's the most beautiful sound Logan has ever heard, the thrumming of his heart adding percussion.

When Kendall finishes, he stands, moves to Logan and leans down, delivering a kiss right to his lips.

Everyone sees.

And Kendall tastes like sweat and longing and love and forever and Logan wants to shout the joy of it.

The sound of his heart is only drowned out by the sound of James and Carlos expressing their support.

K/L

Logan is helping Kendall pack his bag. He's still in shock, but he shouldn't be. Kendall could talk a fish out of water.

"Is it always warm in L.A.? Should I pack a sweater?" Kendall asks, rifling through his closet.

"Bring a sweater," Logan answers, fiddling with the zipper of his own bag, packed and ready. They're supposed to be leaving for the airport in ten minutes. "Where are James and Carlos?"

"Their parents are bringing them separately to the airport. I guess they want to have some big, emotional goodbye or something," Kendall replies, smelling a few sweaters before shoving them in a duffle.

Logan sighs. "Let me help." He stands and walks over to Kendall's drawers, starts sorting through some clothing. Without warning, Kendall grabs his wrist.

"Are you nervous?" Kendall asks. "This could be a big thing. California. A band. We might get famous."

"I guess I am a little." Logan looks at Kendall's fingers around his wrist, and they loosen, fingers traveling across his palm and twining with Logan's. He blinks and looks Kendall in the eye, his pulse beating alongside Kendall's, his reflection in Kendall's eyes colored green.

Kendall's other hand covers Logan's heart. "It's beating so fast."

And Kendall kisses Logan as though it were the most normal thing in the world, a chaste press of lips, warm and soft and right and good.

"Don't ever change, Logan," Kendall says, the utterance tickling Logan's lips where they are still connected.

So Logan doesn't.

~K/L~

Boy Number One, from across the street and to the left, wishes someone would come talk to him. He keeps his face hidden in the book, hoping someone will notice him, hoping he won't have to try to make friends. Maybe things will be different here and he won't be so lonesome all the time. Maybe Minnesota is the place he finds out how to be happy.

The sun shines behind Boy Number Two when he approaches, and Boy One has to squint.

Kendall's hair is strewn about his head like a haphazard halo, glowing like white fire in the light coming from behind him. Logan's heart skips like a stone across the water.

When he goes to play with Kendall, Logan loses his place in the book, forgets it in the snow. He can't bring himself to mind.

They play and play, hide and seek, tag, fight with snowballs. When it starts to grow dark, Logan's mother calls him home.

"You wanna play tomorrow?" Kendall asks.

"Sure," Logan says, excitement threatening to bubble over.

"Okay, well, see you then?" Kendall starts to back away, wiggling his fingers as a way to say bye.

"Kendall, wait!" Logan shouts, clapping his hands over his mouth at the volume of his voice.

The other boy laughs and moves in close to Logan, so close Logan can count his eyelashes.

"Yeah, Logan?"

"Um, will you be my friend?" His voice is quiet now, abashed as he looks at his feet.

"We're already friends, goofy," Kendall laughs, shoving Logan's shoulder. Kendall pulls Logan into a hug.

"What are you doing?" Logan asks, awkwardly keeping his arms at his sides.

"I'm giving you a hug. Looked like you needed one."

Logan chuckles and wraps his arms around Kendall's waist, finally returning the embrace.

Boy Number One thinks, and so does Boy Number Two, although Logan doesn't know it, this is something that might last.

They both go home, something like hope - something like love - budded and only waiting to bloom.


End file.
